


A Game of Chance

by CharlotteAshmore



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Card Games, F/M, Gambling, High Stakes, Milah bets her husband in a game with Belle, Milah is horrible, Non magic AU, Smut, Sweetness and fluff too!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:50:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 117,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Using the last of her spinner husband’s wages, Milah sets off for a night of drinking and gambling at the tavern.  She bites off more than she can chew when she agrees to a game with the Lady Belle.  She ups the ante and bets her husband … and loses.  What does the Lady Belle have in store for the sweet spinner?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HandwithQuill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandwithQuill/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT. This is for fun and not for profit.
> 
> Handwithquill (that lovely dearie) prompted this on her tumblr blog:  
> You know how we have all these fics where Gold somehow ‘Wins’ Belle in a card game? Do we have any of the opposite?  
> Like Milah is out at the pub and gets into a card game/some game of chance and those she’s playing with realize she doesn’t have enough money to keep playing or she just doesn’t care or bets her husband Rumple. Belle is her opponent or just doesn’t like the way she’s talking about him and wins. Or how ever you want it to go, just Belle wins Rumple in a game of chance
> 
> Challenge accepted!!! Hope you enjoy :D

        “Seriously?  This is it?” Milah asked, wrinkling her nose scornfully as she looked down at the handful of silver pieces in her hand.  “Rumpel,” she sighed wearily, as if the weight of the world were pressing upon her shoulders.  “Why must you always be such a disappointment?”

        The spinner set his basket down on the rough-hewn table, laden down with bread, cheese, cured meats and even a sweet for Baelfire.  “M-Milah,” he said, his soft sable gaze pleading with her, “this is the best day I’ve had at the market in months.  I sold all the thread I’d spun and dyed as well as the cloth you helped me with last week.  I was able to purchase enough food to last us until the next market day.”  He didn’t mention the one silver piece he’d hidden away from her in his boot.  Should his son need something more, he wanted to make sure he could provide for the boy.

        Rumpelstiltskin hung his head when she continued to glare at him.  He knew she no longer loved him … she hadn’t for a very long time.  It had been different before the ogre war, when she’d believed him to be strong and brave, so proud to see him leave for war.  It was the shame he’d brought home with him which she couldn’t seem to come to terms.  No woman wanted a coward who would deliberately injure himself for a husband.  Now she used the few precious coins he was able to secure through his trade to drown her grief at the small tavern in their modest village.  He supposed he should be thankful she cared for their son.

        Finally, she pocketed the silver and walked to the door without another word, fetching her cloak and settling it about her shoulders.  “Don’t wait up, Rumpel.  I may be late tonight.”

        “D-Do you have to go tonight?” he asked, casting a worried look at Baelfire where he played quietly on the hearth rug.  “Won’t you at least stay and have supper with us?”

        Milah’s lip curled as she turned to sneer at him.  “Why would I choose to stay here with my poor miserable husband when a cool pint and a game of chance await?  Who knows … perhaps I might meet a tall dark stranger who will fall madly in love with me and take me away from …” She cast a scathing glance about the cottage.  “… all of this?”  Her bitter laughter followed her out the door.

        Rumpelstiltskin sat heavily on the bench seat at the table and tried to put on a brave smile for his six year old child.  He refused to let Milah dampen his spirits … at least in front of his son.  Yet his voice cracked just a bit as he beckoned to his boy.  “Come, Bae, and see what papa found for you at the market!”

        Baelfire set his wooden soldiers aside – his favorite toy since his papa had carved them with his own hands while Bae watched in abject fascination – and took in the sadness his papa tried so hard to hide.  He climbed upon his lap and curled his arms about the spinner’s neck.  “Don’t be sad, papa.”

        Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and buried his face in his son’s neck.  “How can I be sad when I have you, Bae, and your wonderful hugs?”

        “Mama shouldn’t be so mean to you.”  He leaned back and patted his father’s unshaven cheek.  “I love you, papa.  I’ll never be mean to you.”

        He hugged the child close, dinner forgotten in the face of Baelfire’s honest profession of love.  “I love you too, my boy.”

        Baelfire, sensing he’d made his father feel better, hopped onto the bench and pulled the basket closer.  “What’d you bring me, papa?  Is it a sweet?  Will it make me sticky?”

        The spinner was able to forget his troubles as he watched the happiness spread on his son’s face.  He could push his troubles to the back of his mind and bask in the boy’s pleasure.  He was worth it … Bae was worth everything.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        Belle set her book aside on the seat next to her and peered out of the coach window as the conveyance rolled to a jarring halt.  “Fitzpatrick!” she bellowed in her lightly accented voice.

        “Sorry, highness!” the coachman apologized for the hundredth time.  He was always apologetic, yet it never seemed to change his heavy hands on the reins of the six matched greys.

        She rotated her neck and rubbed at her nape to alleviate the stiffness and had just managed to sort herself out when Gaston opened the door and let the steps down.  Her face fell as she got her first good look at the village, taking his hand as she descended the steps.  “Does this place even boast an inn, Gaston?  You are supposed to assure my safety as per papa’s wishes and if there’s no inn … I am _not_ sleeping in the coach again!  So if there’s no inn, you’d best be seeing to a decent campsite to erect our tents.”

        The high princess of Avonlea straightened the midnight blue jacket of her traveling costume and smoothed her skirt as he led her towards the ramshackle establishment, his grin so wide she could see all his teeth.  Her father had sent her off with a small retinue to attend her cousin Anna’s wedding and the entire trip had been tedious in the extreme.  She’d been so overwhelmed with her cousin and her ceaseless chatter, she thought it would be relaxing to see a bit of the realm on the way home.  She couldn’t have been more wrong.  At least Gaston – her dearest friend since childhood – seemed to be enjoying himself.  The meager accommodations they’d been subjected to … well she hadn’t minded … much.  The food could have been better, she had to admit.  They’d only been set upon by thieves once, but her brave knights had been able to chase them off fairly easily with the help of their outriders – soldiers all employed by her father.  The worst thing to have befallen her was the loss of her maid who’d come down with food poisoning and had been forced to remain in Arendelle until she recovered.  What else could she expect to bedevil them?  _Face it, Belle_ _… you’re a spoiled brat!_

        Could she help it if she longed for adventure of the likes of which she read about in her books?  She should have just returned home and buried herself in the library again.  There was little discomfort to be found there amongst her precious collection of tomes.  She snapped back to attention when she realized Gaston had spoken to her.  “I’m sorry, dear, what was that?” she asked, her cheeks tinged with a rosy glow.

        “I said I sent Thorrin ahead to acquire a room for you.  Therefore, you won’t have to spend another night in the coach or your tent,” he assured her.  “According to my squire, there are rooms to be let above the tavern … which, I might add, is purported to offer a decent meal.”

        “And tea?” she asked hopefully.  “Please tell me there will be tea.”  She despaired several villages past of ever finding a decent cup of tea before she reached Avonlea.  At least when they camped, she was able to brew her own.  Oh the hardship!

        The tavern wasn’t different from any of the others she’d visited on her journey through the Frontlands.  Actually, it was a bit cleaner than the last.  It didn’t sit well with her, however, that she was able to see the red glow which lit the skies through the open curtains on the windows.  She didn’t want to think of the poor souls fighting against the ogres at the front.  The duke of the Frontlands was known to be a cruel man and would enlist practically _anyone_ to fight his little war.

        Gaston distracted her from her musings, leading her over to a small table in the corner and laying his cloak over the bench for her to sit on.  She smiled stiffly at him.  It was nice that she had him with her.  She valued his protection nearly as much as his friendship, but sometimes she wondered if she were keeping him from living his own life, denying the chance to find his own love and have a family of his own.  He assured her over and over again that he was more than happy in her service, but it did give her pause.  She didn’t want to be selfish when he’d been such a wonderful friend to her for longer than she cared to remember.

        He settled on the bench opposite her, his position giving him a clear view of the door as well as the room at large.  The princess’s knights were spread out among the villagers who frequented the tavern, their eyes alert and wary as they tucked into a hearty bowl of stew and warm crusty bread provided by the amiable barkeep.  They would be able to jump to their lady’s defense should the need arise.

        A petite blonde, more buxom than brainy, came over to their table and set down a portion of stew and a plate of the warm bread along with two flagons of mead.  Belle smiled blissfully as the hearty aroma of tender lamb and root vegetables in a savory broth assailed her nose.  “Oooh it smells heavenly.”

        The blonde smiled.  “Yeah, ol’ Pete’s a fairly decent bloke in the kitchen, milady.  Is there anything else I mi’ get fer ye?”  Noise from the other side of the tavern caught her attention as it nearly drowned out what she was saying.  “Oi, you lot!  Keep it down over there.”

        “No, lovey, this’ll do,” Gaston said, casting her a million watt smile.  She blushed prettily, not used to having such fine specimens frequent their tavern very often.  He nodded in the direction of the ruckus.  “What’s their story?”

        The girl’s face fell into a look of disgust.  “That’s Milah,” she sneered, “th’ spinner’s wife.  Sh’ comes in at least once a week to gamble away ‘er husband’s hard earned wages an’ drink until she ken forget she’s married to th’ village coward.  ’S really sad,” she elaborated.  “Rumpelstiltskin works ‘ard to provide for her and their son and she doesn’t appreciate it one bit.”

        Belle’s spoon hovered near her mouth, food forgotten as she listened to the girl.  “And he allows this?” she couldn’t help from asking.

        Gaston moved over on his side of the bench to make room for her as she sat down.  “Do tell,” he encouraged her.

        The girl lowered her eyes demurely, but she couldn’t hide the light of excitement in her eyes at the prospect of sitting next to the handsome knight.  “I’m no’ the type who cares for idle gossip …”

        Belle snorted, but hid it behind her tankard as she took a sip of her mead.  _Sure, you’re not, dear._

        “…but I supposed I could tell ye.  The mon sh’ married, Rumpelstiltskin, he’s al’ays been sweet an’ timid, kind, mind ye.  He never shoulda gone off to fight in th’ war.  He’s th’ only one of our men ta come back … injured himself to avoid th’ fightin.  Didna want his son ta grow up wi’out his father.  Milah hasna been th’ same since.  I think th’ only reason he stays is for th’ sake o’ his boy.  Ye’ll never see another father dote on a child more.”

        Belle’s heart went out to the poor spinner and what he must have suffered to return to his family.  And then to be scorned for it by the woman who should love him …

        The blonde swung her head in the direction of the spinner’s wife as she whooped again and pulled a small pile of winnings towards her.  “I suppose sh’ couldna deal with being th’ wife of a mon branded a coward.  Doesna excuse her actions though.  Trollop!”  She cast a doe eyed look at the knight and blushed.  “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir.”

        “Marie!  These drinks arna gonna serve themselves, girl!” Came a shout from the bar.

        Gaston reached out and grabbed her hand as she hurriedly rose to her feet.  “Perhaps when you’re done here, lovey, you might consent to take a stroll with me through the square?  I’d love to hear more of your lovely voice,” he said in a sultry tone.  It took everything Belle had not to choke on her stew.  He was such a ham.

        The girl dropped into a quick curtsy and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear as her blush deepened.  “Oh, aye.  I’d like tha’.”

        His dark ocher gaze followed Marie’s gently swaying hips as she went back to work, a lascivious smirk curling his generous lips.  It fell away as he turned back to Belle and noticed the deep furrow between her brows.  He knew that look well and it never boded well for anyone.  “Oh hell,” he grumbled into his stew, just waiting for her to voice her thoughts.  He was more than a little surprised when she remained silent.

        The princess drank deeply from her tankard, her manicured nails drumming thoughtfully against the rough surface of the table as she surreptitiously watched the dark haired woman across the tavern.  If the barmaid were to be believed, this Milah person was of the lowest dregs of society … or at least what served for society in this backwater village.  How could any woman fault her husband for returning to her by any means necessary?  If it were her, she’d have been grateful to have her husband back, the partner she’d chosen to spend her life with and help raise their children.  A fiery blush rose in her cheeks as she gnashed her teeth together, fury over the injustice of it all rising to choke her.

        “Belle,” Gaston groaned.  “I know what you’re thinking, love.  It’s not your –“

        She took another sip from her tankard, her eyes flashing hotly at him over the rim.  “Don’t tell me it’s not my place to interfere, Gaz,” she said in a neutral tone as she set the vessel down with more force than necessary.  “I don’t know to what you’re inferring.”

        He sighed and pushed his empty bowl aside, reaching for the last piece of bread.  “And you’re forgetting that I know you better than most.  Luc is going to have kittens if you start a feud with some lowlander.”

        “Pfft.  Lucern doesn’t concern himself with my affairs.  He’s too busy dogging our father’s boot heels to pay attention to me and you know it,” she scoffed.  “Besides, my brother is more interested in that new bride of his just now.”

        Gaston chuckled softly, a teasing light in his eyes.  “Yes, Lysette makes a wonderful new addition to the ranks of those hounding you to marry.”

        “Don’t remind me,” Belle grumbled.  Her brother was to be king, had fulfilled his duty to marry and produce an heir, yet he still had the audacity to nag her to choose a husband.  Well, she wasn’t going to do it to please him, no matter how much she doted on her twin.  No, she wanted love.  She wanted the whole fairy tale complete with a happily ever after.  She would not be settling for a ‘good match’ as so many of her friends had.  For her, it would be true love or nothing.

        But it wasn’t the thought of pending spinsterhood that worried her at that moment.  Her need to teach that woman a lesson she’d not soon forget was what goaded her into letting loose her wily tongue.  “Gaz, darling, why don’t we join the party?  Don’t you think that would be great fun?”

        He barely refrained from banging his head on the table.  “Belle, I have a date.”

        “That’s not until much later.”

        “I don’t feel like gambling tonight,” he persisted in his objections.

        She waved a dismissive hand as she rose from the table.  “It matters not, because I do.  It shouldn’t take very long to put her in her place,” she smiled darkly.

        “I don’t know what Luc was thinking when he taught you how to play,” he grumbled under his breath as he followed her across the room.  He waved his men back to their seats, one look assuring them he had the situation well in hand.  Lucern and Belle were two of the wiliest card players in the palace.  They reveled in being able to pull the wool over the eyes of visiting dignitaries.  It wasn’t that they wanted to win.  They played for their own sport, their tells and silent looks – almost as if they could speak without words – the game rather than the cards they wielded so expertly, and they _never_ lost when they joined forces.  They were a force to be reckoned with, and this peasant woman … he actually felt sorry for what she was about to experience.

        Belle stopped just short of the table where another of Milah’s pigeons shoved himself to his feet and threw his cards down on its surface, reluctantly admitting defeat as his funds petered out.  Gaston took his place and executed a short bow to the woman.  “Pardon the intrusion, mistress, but my lady Belle would like to join you if you are amenable.”

        Milah drained her tankard of ale and bit out a shrill laugh.  “’Amenable’ eh?  Such fancy speech.”  She shifted to see the lady in question hidden behind the hulking knight.  She took in the fine velvet and silk the woman wore, sneering at the jaunty hat with its short gauzy veil and long blue feather perched atop perfectly coiffed chestnut curls.  She sobered instantly as she felt the acute sting of jealously rise within her and sink its sharp claws in her gut.  Rumpelstiltskin would never be able to provide such finery for her if he spun for a thousand years.  “Why would such a fine lady want to play with me?”

        Gaston shot her a winning smile, the same one he’d used to charm half the ladies in Avonlea … _and_ their mothers.  “We’ve been traveling for days and my lady finds herself quite bored.  It would be a welcome respite to enjoy the companionship of another female, and I feel she might learn a thing or two from such a … skilled player,” he said, plying her with flattery.

        “She doesn’t know how to play?” Milah asked suspiciously, once again eyeing the demure lady waiting patiently to see if she were going to be allowed to join the game.

        Gaston shrugged.  “I’ve taught her the basics,” he whispered, leaning in closer to the woman, “but she’s not very good.”  He was going to burn in hell for the sheer number of lies spilling from his lips.  He reached into the leather pouch on his belt and withdrew a small drawstring sack of gold and silver coins, shaking it so she could hear the merry jingle.  “I assure you, she can afford to play for a while.”

        Milah licked her lips as an avaricious light shone in her eyes.  With what his pouch contained, she might be able to finally have enough to leave their wretched village and her cowardly husband far behind.  She gestured to the empty seat which had been vacated earlier.  “By all means, sir, have your lady join us.”  She looked at the two men who had remained after the last hand.  “I’m sure you both wouldn’t mind indulging such a fine lady?”

        Belle settled into the chair Gaston held out for her as the men eagerly nodded their acceptance, seeing her as an easy mark.  “You owe me, Bluebelle,” he whispered in her ear.  He bowed once more to Milah and moved to another table, sitting with his back against the wall and stretching his feet out on the bench to keep watch over her.  And so it began, he thought bemusedly.

        Belle smiled sweetly as she thanked the woman.  “This is so exciting.  Gaz usually never lets me play … I don’t play very well, I’m afraid.” 

        Milah only smiled brighter and cast her a sympathetic glance.  “Don’t worry, dear, you just need the opportunity to hone your skills.  We’re all friends here.”

        Belle picked up the cards the gentleman to her left – Cuthbert, he introduced himself – dealt her and frowned.  “You’re sure we’re only supposed to have five cards?”

        Milah snickered behind her own cards as she straightened them to her satisfaction.  “There are some games that require seven to a hand, but tonight we’re only playing five.”  She took three silver pieces from the small pile of winnings before her and set them in the center of the table.  “Alright, gents, ante up.”

        Belle held the little sack of gold and silver in her hands, biting her lip in consternation.  Oh how she was already enjoying herself.  “Do you always bet so little?  I’m sorry … that was rude of me.”

        “Don’t worry, m’lady, I’m sure the pot will grow as we play,” the gentleman to her right assured her.

        The princess fought to keep the smirk off her face as she discarded three kings and picked up a pile of rubbish.  She could afford to lull the woman into a false sense of security.  And while she was at it, she kept a close eye on the two men on either side of her, constantly watching to make sure they didn’t cheat.  Milah was too confident in her skills to try such tactics … yet.

        As the third hand came to an end and the small pile of winnings before the spinner’s wife increased, Belle decided it was time to change her ‘luck’.  The men folded quickly and the woman’s brows shot up as Belle tossed several coins into the pot.  Milah matched it and called.

        Belle slowly laid her hand out on the table for her to see.  “Is two kings and three aces a good hand?” she asked with false hesitancy.  Inside she was smugly preening. 

        Milah’s lips stretched into a tight smile as she laid her own hand on the table … two kings and a pair of twos.  “Full house, dearie.  You win.”

        Belle squealed happily, like a true novice and pulled her winnings from the center of the table and stacked them neatly before her.  The act she put on for the spinner’s wife was worthy of the stage, but she never allowed it to slip.  The few glances she cast Gaston showed him to be anxiously chewing on his thumbnail, just waiting for her to slip and the woman to call her on her duplicity.  He should know her better than that, but he worried regardless as he did every time she played.

        The sun had dipped low over the horizon in the hours since they’d begun and the peasant woman continued to tip her cup and lower her guard.  Soon it was quite noticeable that Belle’s pile of winnings far outweighed her own.

        “I do believe I’m getting a bit better at this,” the princess chuckled.  Milah scowled and took the cards up as it was her turn to deal.

        The cards flew deftly to land before each of the players and coins were added to the pot.  Cards were discarded and more replaced them.  Each of the players were intent in their focus and didn’t at first notice the new voice that sounded in the din of the tavern.  “Milah?  Milah, dearie, it’s getting late.  You need to come home.”

        For the first time since she’d sat down at the table to play, Belle faltered.  Her hands trembled slightly as she glanced up and saw him for the first time.  It could only be the spinner with his troubled gaze focused so intently on the brunette sitting across from her.  Everything about him appealed to her, from his long fingered grasp on the walking staff he clutched so tightly in his right hand to his dark sable eyes and shaggy collar length hair.  He was wonderful and she felt the breath freeze in her chest.  She blinked and dropped her gaze to her cards, fighting to maintain her calm.  What was wrong with her?  She’d never had such a strong reaction to anyone as she did to this peasant.

        Belle clenched her hands tightly about her cards as Milah tsked her tongue scornfully.  “Run along home, Rumpel.  It’s what you’re good at.”

        “Milah, please,” he said softly.

        “I’m busy,” she spat.  “Let me finish this hand and then I’ll consider your request.”

        The two men sitting with them, snickered loudly and tossed a few coins into the pot.  They were used to Rumpelstiltskin having to come and fetch his wife back home.

        Belle forced herself to remain calm when what she really wanted to do was slap the vicious little witch.  It was then that she realized she’d had enough.  She glanced down at her cards.  She had four queens in her hand.  Luck was with her – as always – and she knew she could bring the hateful woman to her penniless knees with one bold move.  “Well, since this is our last hand, I think I’m going to go out with a bang,” she simpered, still playing her part.

        “Think you have it, do you?” the spinner’s wife asked, a calculating gleam in her eyes.

        “Oh yes!  I’m going to go all in,” she said gleefully, shoving every last coin she owned into the center of the table. 

        Milah’s eyes widened, knowing she didn’t have enough to match it.  She knew she could beat the noblewoman with the four jacks she held tightly in her fist, and she could have wept.  “I don’t … I don’t have enough to match you.”

        Belle’s eyes grew cold and the simpering smile slid from her lovely features to show the woman she’d been bested.  Yet as Milah’s eyes widened, she couldn’t help one more dig.  “You could always bet something besides money.  Surely an accomplished gambler such as yourself has a trinket or two you could throw into the pot to match my wager, or you could simply fold and admit defeat.”

        “I _never_ lose,” Milah hissed.

        Belle’s lips curled into a feral smile as she arched a perfectly sculpted brow at the woman.  “Neither.  Do.  I.”

        Milah’s hand landed atop Belle’s as the princess moved to rake her winnings from the table and leave.  “No, wait!  I do have something.”  She licked her lips nervously as her gaze darted between the pile of gold and silver and her husband.  “You can have him if you win,” she said, pointing to her husband.

        Gaston sprang to his feet and rounded the table to stand beside his lady.  “Belle, you cannot accept a wager for a human … it’s not done!”

        “What?!” Rumpelstiltskin cried.  “You cannae do that, Milah!”

        Milah sneered at her husband.  “Oh don’t worry, Rumpel.  When have you ever known me to lose?  I’m just using you to cover the wager and then we can go home.”

        Gaston was on the verge of panic.  “Belle, think about this!  You -“

        The princess cut him off with the lifting of her elegant hand, a gesture for silence that was not to be disobeyed.  “I accept … and I call.”

        Milah cackled with unsuppressed triumph as she laid her cards on the table and reached for the pile of winnings.  “See, Rumpel, I told you not to worry.”

        “And it was false hope which you gave him,” Belle said softly, her eyes tiny pinpricks of ice as she stared coldly at the spinner’s wife.  She laid her cards on the table to reveal her winning hand of four queens and a three of clubs.  “Queens overrule Jacks any day, dear.  Or in this instance … a princess over a trifling witch.”

        “No!  No, that’s … that’s impossible!” she screeched.

        “I assure you it’s not.”

        “You cheated.  Somehow you tricked me!”

        Belle refused to look at the spinner, instead focusing her gaze on his wife.  She couldn’t look over at him and see the devastation she knew would be written on his weathered features.  “Gaston –“

        “Papa!”

        Rumpelstiltskin turned in horror as his son tugged on his homespun cloak.  “Bae … what are you doing here, son?  I told you to wait outside.”  He bent awkwardly and hugged the boy to him.

        The only outward sign of Belle’s inner turmoil was a gently twitching muscle in her jaw as she ground her teeth together.  How could she have forgotten about the boy when she’d accepted Milah’s wager?  How could she in good conscience separate the man from his son?

        Milah crossed her arms petulantly over her chest, her mouth twisted with scorn.  “Fine!  Take him.  You’ll see what an outright joy that is,” she spat, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

        Before Belle could respond, Rumpelstiltskin released his son and dropped to his knees at her feet, his long fingers clutching at her skirts.  “Please, milady, please don’t do this.  Please don’t take me away from my son,” he pleaded, his large ocher eyes brimming with tears.  He’d had to put up with a lot from his wife since he’d returned from the front injured and branded a coward.  He’d accepted her hatred, her scorn, her belittling words as his due for his actions, but he never thought she’d stoop so low as to wager his life in a game of chance.  If he somehow managed to talk his way out of this, he’d never be able to look upon her the same.  “Please.”

        It was all Belle could do not to card her fingers through his hair and offer him her touch, her comfort.  “I’m sorry.  You belong to me now.”  A light of determination entered her eyes as she turned them on the woman.  She ignored the muffled sob he emitted against the soft velvet of her skirts and offered her a new deal.  “How much for the boy?  You’re so eager to break up your family, so delighted to rid yourself of your husband, why not your child?  How much gold is he worth to you?”

        Milah gaped at the noblewoman who’d bested her as Belle reached into her reticule and withdrew another handful of gold coins.  She motioned for Gaston to add his own to the pile.  “You can’t be serious.”

        “I will also give over what’s still on the table.  It’s a small fortune and will provide for you for quite some time.”

        “Papa, what’s happening?” she heard the child whisper against his father’s neck as he clung to him in fright.

        “Belle, this is insane!” Gaston growled in outrage, refusing to look at the spinner still on his knees sobbing quietly.

        “Enough!” she commanded.  “I did not cheat or use any kind of trickery in the game.  I won fair and square.  It was not I who used a human being as collateral.”

        Milah stared at the pile of coins on the table for a long moment before furtively glancing at her husband and son.  She’d finally done it.  She’d finally procured enough gold and silver to leave their horrid village and seek adventure as she’d always wished … and now she was rid of the coward who wouldn’t let her go.  She was free!  “I accept.  He’s better off with his father anyway,” she said, sweeping the treasure trove of wealth into her gathered apron.

        “Not so fast.  You are not allowed to leave until we have a clear and binding contract … so have a seat,” Belle sneered, her lip curling in disgust.  She nodded to one of her knights who rushed to her side to prevent the spinner’s wife from beating a hasty exit.  “Thorrin, take Rumpelstiltskin to his home and have him gather his belongings and those for … Bae, was it?”  Milah nodded, not looking at her son again who had begun weeping.  “Bring them here when you’re done.  They can bunk with you.  We’ll be leaving at first light.”

        Gwain and Leon pushed the two men who’d witnessed the entire scene back down into their chairs while Merrick left to fetch parchment and quill for Belle to write out a contract.  For the first time that evening, Belle felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease, knowing she was doing the right thing.  This woman didn’t deserve her spinner husband.  He needed to be away from her bile in an environment where he and his son could flourish and grow. 

        Her smile was reminiscent of the cat who’d been served the freshest dish of cream in the land.  She dipped the quill into the ink pot and touched it lightly to the parchment.  “Now, where were we?”


	2. Chapter 2

 

        Rumpelstiltskin clutched Baelfire’s hand desperately as he hurried to his home, almost fearful that his son would be ripped away from him.  The knight’s squire matched his pace as he walked at his side.  He was still having difficulty believing his treacherous wife had literally gambled him away and then _sold_ their only child for even more gold.  He knew it had been a long time that she’d been unhappy, but to stoop to such a level to be rid of him?  It didn’t surprise him that she would go to any lengths she felt necessary to be rid of him – frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t tried to murder him in his sleep before now – but to sell her own child?

        Baelfire tugged at his father’s hand.  “Papa, I’m afraid.  What’s going to happen to us?” the boy whispered fearfully. 

        Rumpelstiltskin lifted his small body in his arms and held him close as he continued on, whispering soothing promises against his ear to calm him.  “I’m sure it’s going to be fine, Bae.  You’ll be with me and you know I’ll never let any harm come to you.  We’ll figure this out, my boy.”

        Thorrin looked about the humble cottage, taking up a relaxed stance near the door to assure the spinner and his son didn’t flee.  Not that he would get far with his lame ankle, but desperate men were prone to desperate acts.  “You need help with your things?” he asked, smiling slightly to reassure the man.

        “Bae, go on and fill this with things you want to bring with you,” Rumpelstiltskin said, setting the task for his son.  Baelfire skipped off to the small chest which housed his clothes and toys and began filling the sack his father had given him.  He turned to the squire and shook his head.  “No, thank you.  It should only take a short time to gather …” his voice trailed away as he moved off to collect his own things.

        He hadn’t accumulated much over the years, and what he did have was well worn.  He only hoped the noblewoman wouldn’t hold his meager possessions against him.  His eyes darted longingly to the spinning wheel in the far corner of the room.  It had belonged to his Aunt Agnes, passing to him when she’d died.  A pang of sadness for the relic made his heart clench. 

        He startled as the squire placed his hand on his shoulder.  “You don’t have to leave it.  We have more than enough room in the wagon for your wheel.”

        Rumpelstiltskin stared at him hopefully.  “You’re sure?”

        “Yes.  The princess will want you to be happy in your service to her.  She won’t want you to leave behind something that means much to you.”

        “Princess?!” Bae squealed excitedly.  “The lady is a princess?  Does she live in a castle?” 

        Thorrin smiled, taken in by the boy’s childish delight.  “Indeed, young master, she is.”

        Baelfire turned his wide sable gaze to his father.  “Is mama coming with us, papa?”

        The spinner blanched, the color leeching from his face as he searched his mind for an answer that wouldn’t devastate his son.  Thorrin leaned down and took the sack from Baelfire, distracting him.  “Are you ready?  We should return to the inn.  I’m sure Lady Belle will want to speak with your papa about what is expected of him, yeah?”

        Baelfire bounded out of the door, one of his wooden soldiers clasped tightly in his hand.  Rumpelstiltskin followed, Thorrin bringing up the rear as they made their way back down the lane.  Already, the tale of Milah’s duplicity had spread and he refused to listen to the loud whispers which met his ears.  Baelfire was oblivious to it all in his excitement, and that was enough to keep his own panic at bay.  Shame over his wife’s actions weighed heavily upon him, but shame at his own helplessness was heavier.

        Milah was waiting for them in the common room of the tavern when they returned, the dark knight who served as the princess’s personal guard standing at her side to assure the peace.  Baelfire ran to greet his mother, hugging her about the waist.  “Mama, we’re going to live in a castle,” he squealed happily as he looked up into her sad blue eyes.  “Aren’t you excited?”

        She looked over at her husband, but he refused to meet her gaze.  Instead she dropped to her knees before her son.  “I won’t be going with you, Bae.  This is an adventure for you and your papa.”

         His large eyes welled with tears, but he refused to let them spill over.  His mama didn’t like tears.  “B-But why?  Don’t you want to be my mama anymore?” he sniffed.

        “Of course I do,” she insisted, tugging him into her arms.  “I love you, Bae, but I have to do what is best for you.  This new position for your papa will expose you to the right people and you won’t have to worry ever again about being cold or hungry.  You will have warm clothes and hearty meals, a chance to learn and grow into a fine man.  This is for the best.”

        Thorrin glanced at Gaston whose jaw was set in stone.  He apparently knew exactly what had gone on in his absence, and he had to quell the disappointment of having to wait until later to find out.  “Thorrin, why don’t you see the boy to the room he will share with you and his father,” the knight said, knowing it wouldn’t be quite as pleasant to see the spinner say goodbye to his selfish wife.

        Baelfire kissed his mother’s cheek and slipped his hand into Thorrin’s glancing up at his father as he was led away.  Rumpelstiltskin gnashed his teeth, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he finally looked at Milah.  His eyes were pinpricks of ice as he stared.  “I suppose you’re happy now, are you?  That you’ve broken our son’s heart?”

            She glared at him not bothering to hide her hatred for him. "Do you really think this was easy for me?!  He's my son, Rumpel.  Regardless of what you think, I love him."

          "Yes, it's just me you despise," he hissed bitterly.

          She sneered down her nose at him. "You can't really blame me for wanting to be free of the village coward. Just be thankful I didn't take Baelfire from you. Despite your failings, you are the better parent."  Noticing the steely-eyed glare from the knight standing behind her husband, she gathered her bearing and prepared to take her leave. "Don't worry, Rumpel. I'm sure you'll be happy with the lady. Hopefully, you won't be a disappointment to her as well."

          "And what will you do when you run out of money or an easy mark?  Sooner or later you'll have to account for your greed."

          She lifted her chin haughtily and smiled. "I always land on my feet, dearie."  And with that she was gone. He only prayed never to see her again.  He'd never be able to forgive her, nor did he want to.  

        A heavy hand came down on his shoulder, drawing him out of the haze of misery which fogged his mind.  “Come with me,” Gaston said, directing him towards the stairs leading to the rooms above.  “Rumpelstiltskin, right?”

        “I beg your pardon?”

        “Your name?  It’s Rumpelstiltskin?”

        The spinner looked at the knight querulously and nodded

        “And your boy is …”

        “Baelfire.”

        “Wonderful.  The two of you will be bunking with my squire,” Gaston informed him.  “Don’t get too comfortable though.  We’ll be leaving at first light.  Lady Belle isn’t impressed with your village and is ready to put it behind us.”

        “I can’t say as I blame her.”  Rumpelstiltskin stepped out onto the landing and grunted as his foot turned the wrong way, forcing him to stumble as he righted himself.  The knight knew that whatever pride the spinner possessed, he wouldn’t appreciate his assistance.  He waited for a moment for the man to catch his bearings before leading him down the hall to a door at the end.

        Gaston couldn’t agree more, but he held his tongue on the matter.  He paused with his hand on the latch.  “The princess wishes to go over the contract she forged with your wife.  When you’re done, your room is number eight,” he said, pointing down the hallway to the door in question.  “Thorrin will watch after your boy until your meeting is concluded, so don’t fear for him.”  He offered the spinner a reassuring smile and gave him a gentle nudge in his back to get him moving.

        Rumpelstiltskin felt panic rising in his chest.  He was in the princess’s private room and he didn’t know whether to bow, kneel or anything else etiquette might require.  Should he keep his eyes lowered to the floor or look her in the eye?  What the hell had Milah gotten him into?  He didn’t have long to ponder his actions as the princess stepped out from behind the screen swathed in a navy robe in the softest velvet he’d ever seen.  His mouth went dry and he had no choice but to lower his gaze, not wanting to be caught ogling her in her state of undress.

        “Hello, Rumpelstiltskin,” she greeted him warmly, beckoning him to join her at the small table where a tea service awaited her.  “Won’t you please join me for a cup of tea?”

        He peeked up at her from beneath the fringe of his hair which hung low over his brow.  “I-I-I c-couldn’t, m’lady,” he stammered, his face flushing with nervousness.

        “Please, sit,” she commanded, giving him no choice in the matter.  She poured him a cup of tea from the little earthenware pot, watching him fidget with his ever present staff.  He was a wreck, poor thing, she thought, her ire rising once more over the state of affairs his treacherous wife had left him in.  “Rumpelstiltskin, how do you take your tea?”

        “I …” The Adam ’s apple bobbed convulsively in his throat as he swallowed.  “I … don’t really take anything in it, m’lady.  Sugar is a luxury and …”

        Belle plunked two of the brown sugar cubes in his cup and added a twist of lemon, preparing his cup as she would her own.  “There you are,” she smiled, handing him the cup.  Next she chose several of the little sandwiches the proprietor had sent up with the tray and arranged them on a saucer, passing it to him before he could protest. 

        “You shouldn’t be serving me, m’lady.”  He sipped from his cup and then stared into it as if it held the secrets of the universe, still refusing to meet her eyes.  “I am your slave.  It is I who should be seeing to _your_ needs.”

        Belle frowned, wondering to what depths of his soul the spinner had been broken.  He was damaged, and not just from what she could see of the injury he lived with every day.  No, his scars ran deep, inflicted by more than just the wife who had carelessly tossed him aside.  She could see she was going to have her work cut out with him.  “Rumpel … do you mind if I call you Rumpel?  Your name is quite the mouthful and a bit formal.  I don’t want us to be formal.”

        He nodded and reached for one of the dainty little sandwiches.  He’d much prefer to occupy his mouth before he said the wrong thing.

        “Lovely!” she beamed.  She reached for the rolled up parchment on the table, unfurling it and laying it out flat for his perusal.  “Now, this is the contract I drew up, if you’d like to read it.  I will also need you to sign it … what’s wrong?”

        She hadn’t thought it possible for him to withdraw into himself more than he already had, but apparently she was mistaken as his cheeks flamed with shame.  “I can’t read,” he murmured.  “I-I never learned, and I can barely eke out a legible signature.”

        “It’s no matter.”  She moved her chair closer to his so she could go over the contract with him.  “We’ll add that to the list of things you’ll need once we reach Avonlea.  You and Baelfire can learn together.”

        His head shot up and for the first time he met her gaze for more than a second or two.  “How did you know Bae couldn’t read?”

        “Oh, he was brought to me before he retired.”  She gestured to her open trunk at the foot of the bed to where a small stack of books could be seen inside.  “He commented on my books and mentioned that he couldn’t read though he wished someday to learn.  He’s quite a charming young man,” she said fondly, already enamored with the boy.  “I look forward to getting to know him better.”

        “You would educate your slaves, m’lady?” he asked, astonished by her generosity.

        Belle frowned at his terminology.  It was the second time he’d referred to himself as a slave and she couldn’t allow his misconceptions to continue.  “Rumpel, you’re not my slave.”  She pointed to the top of the contract and drew his attention to it.  “Let us go over what is outlined and see if I can help you to understand.”

        She took a sip of her tea before she began.  “I won’t bore you with the legal vernacular, but this first paragraph states that your wife wagered you and lost.  Any claim she had on you is now forfeit.  Your marriage is no longer valid and she is to avoid all further contact with you in the future.”

        He simply nodded, but his jaw was tight with suppressed anger.  She could only hope it wasn’t directed at her.  After what that woman had done, she didn’t want her anywhere near Rumpelstiltskin where she could continue to spew her poison.

        “The next paragraph states that you are to be my servant for five years.  This set amount of time given to me will cover the gold I awarded to your former wife.  If at such time you wish to leave my service after your tenure, you will be provided with a home of your own anywhere you wish in the kingdom, as well as a small stipend until such time as you can provide for yourself through your chosen trade.”

        Rumpelstiltskin stared down at the words on the parchment, wishing he could read them for himself because what he was hearing was simply too good to be true. 

        “Your duties will pertain strictly to me, Rumpel, which means you serve only me.  You will not be asked to cater to anyone else in my father’s court.”  She didn’t mention that she didn’t trust anyone else not to abuse him. Courtly intrigue was a great part of her existence and she didn’t want the gentle spinner exposed to their deceptions and trickery.  She wanted to bring at least a little happiness to his life now that she’d freed him from his miserable wife.  “Now as to your son …”

        She reached out and took the tea cup from his hands as they began to tremble, preventing the hot liquid from sloshing over the sides and burning him.  “Hey, it’s alright,” she crooned softly, holding his work worn hands in hers.  He started at the touch, willing himself not to pull away from her.  She nibbled her lower lip contemplatively as she felt a tingle in her fingertips from the contact.  A warm fluttery sensation settled in her stomach, leaving her breathless with wonder as she pondered the strange connection she felt with this man.  She had to force herself to return to the business at hand.  “Baelfire was sold to me outright, Rumpel.  Do you understand what that means?”

        Tears welled up in his warm brown eyes and he closed them before he embarrassed himself in front of the princess.  “I-It means he now belongs to you to do as you wish.  I have no say –“

        “That’s true, but I cannot see myself taking him from you.  He needs you just as much as you need him.”  She smiled gently, her fingertips coming to rest beneath his chin to tilt his head up to meet her gaze once more.  “He will never leave your side, Rumpelstiltskin.  He will grow up to be a fine man, educated and supplied with every resource available that I can provide.  He will never want for anything.  Baelfire will be my ward, if you’ll allow it.”

        A choked sob escaped his throat before he could stop it.  “I don’t deserve your graciousness, princess.  I –“

        “I have a feeling the two of you deserve a great deal more.  From what I have learned about you, I fear your lives have been lacking anything remotely close to happiness.  I’m hoping to change that.”

        “I can never hope to repay you,” he said in an agonized whisper.

        “Serve me well, Rumpel.  That’s all I ask.”  She drew an ink pot and quill from the wooden secretary on the table and offered it to him.  “Are these terms agreeable to you?”

        He didn’t hesitate to take the quill from her, scrawling his name sloppily across the bottom beneath hers and Milah’s.  He would be a fool to reject her offer, and Rumpelstiltskin was no fool.  He would accept for no other reason than the benefit of his son, even if she’d told him he’d be scrubbing latrines for the next decade.  Nothing mattered more to him than his boy.

        Belle blew onto the parchment, her breath drying the ink.  She beamed at him as she rolled it up and tucked it away in her secretary.  “Now then, I will let you retire.  I’m sure after such a trying evening you will wish to see to your son and get some rest.”

        “M’lady, I don’t know how to thank –“

        “Oh posh.  Think nothing of it,” she said, rising to lead him to the door.  “Now, enjoy your rest.”

        Rumpelstiltskin leaned heavily on his staff as he limped towards the door Gaston had pointed out earlier, his mind whirling as he thought of all the princess had told him.  How had his life changed so drastically on the turn of a card?  Baelfire tackled him the moment he entered the room, a bundle of boundless energy.

        “Papa!  Did you talk to Lady Belle?  Did she tell you about Avonlea?  We’re going to live in a castle and she’s going to teach me to read and –“

        “Easy, son,” he admonished softly.  “And yes, I spoke with her.”

        “I’m so excited, papa.  I cannot wait to begin our journey tomorrow!” he gushed excitedly.

        Rumpelstiltskin sent a pained look at the chuckling squire, who was already laid out upon one of the three beds in the room.  He shooed Baelfire to a bed and peeled the socks from his feet as he tucked him in.  “Settle down now, son.  We’ve a big day tomorrow and if you don’t get some sleep, you’ll be a little beast.”

        The boy grinned unrepentantly, even as his eyes drooped heavily.  “I love you, papa,” he said around a huge yawn.

        The spinner smiled indulgently at his son.  “I love you, too, Bae.  Sleep well, m’boy.”  He made his way to his own bed, the mattress lumpy, but more comfortable than the one he’d slept on for many a year.  Thorrin extinguished the lamps and all fell silent in the darkened room, but it was a long time before sleep found him.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        The spinner was jolted awake, his heart pounding frantically in his thin chest as Gaston marched down the hallway outside his room and began knocking on their doors to rouse his men.  Thorrin groaned and pulled his pillow over his head to block out the sound.  Rumpelstiltskin propped himself up on his elbows as he willed his breathing back to normal, staring at the ebony haired knight when he stuck his head in the door, a rakish grin on his face.

        “G’mornin’, sunshine,” he chortled, leaning against the doorframe.  “Best get a move on, spinner.  The princess will be wanting her breakfast while the rest of us prepare for our departure.”

        Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself upright and reached for his boots, hastily pulling them on before reaching for his staff.  “What are my duties?  She didn’t mention them last night,” he said, flustered as he moved towards the door.

        “You need to fetch her breakfast,” Gaston repeated.  “Make certain it includes tea.  Then you will need to make sure all of her belongings are packed and ready when Gwain comes for her trunk.”

        Thorrin groaned as he dragged himself out of bed and began dressing.  “And don’t worry about the young master here.  I’ll make sure he’s dressed and fed before we take your belongings down to the coach.  Fitzpatrick already secured your wheel last night, so don’t fret that it’ll be left behind.”

        “Oh, and a word to the wise,” Gaston whispered conspiratorially.  “Our princess is a veritable beast in the morning before she has her tea.  Don’t let anything she might say upset you.”

        Rumpelstiltskin frowned darkly at the knight, unable to believe the sweet lady who’d become his savior had a disagreeable bone in her body.

        Gaston roared with laughter.  “You don’t believe me.  You’ll see soon enough.  Now let’s get moving!”

        Ten minutes later, Rumpelstiltskin knocked on the princess’s door with the tip of his staff, her breakfast tray balanced precariously on his other arm.  There was a bit of grumbling from the other side of the door before her voice called out for him to enter.  He set his staff against the wall and opened the door, the dishes rattling as he balanced enough to maneuver inside.  He had to force himself not to look away from her as he set the tray down on the table and moved to fluff the pillows behind her.  His cheeks flushed bright pink as his fingers grazed her shoulder where her gown had slipped off in her sleep.

        “G-Good morning, m’lady,” he greeted her as he set the tray on her lap and poured her tea.

        “Rumpel,” she acknowledged with a yawn.  Her eyes strayed to the window and she glowered at the darkness outside.  “Bloody hell, it’s not even light outside,” she grumbled.  She grimaced at the porridge and toast on the tray, but knew she had to eat.  It wouldn’t do for her to go hungry until they could stop for luncheon.  Her eyes followed her new servant as he brushed out her traveling costume and draped it over the screen.  He looked so unsure of himself.  She would have to go over his duties with him once they were safely ensconced in the coach and on their way. “Don’t worry about the trunk for now.  Fetch me some warm water for washing first.”  She tried not to sound like the shrew she knew herself to be in the mornings, but still he lit out of the room as if she were going to beat him if he didn’t move fast enough.

        Oh, yes.  She could see that he was going to be a lot of work, but she was more than capable of putting his mind at ease.  He returned sooner than she thought and felt it was extraordinary that he could move so swiftly with his injury.  He proved himself able to care for her and had her things removed from the room by her knights before she emerged, dressed for the day, from behind the screen.

        “Stand up straight, Rumpel.  I don’t want you to act as if I’m going to hit you with my parasol,” she said, arching a brow at him.  “I see Gaz has been spreading tales this morning, the lummox.  You have nothing to fear from me, I promise.”

        He followed in her wake as she swept out of the room and down the stairs.  He ignored the looks of pity from the proprietor and the one barmaid who was on duty.  He was used to scorn, but he drew the line at pity.  It was no different when he stepped outside the tavern and several of the villagers milled about in the dim light of dawn on their way to fetch water from the well in the square.

        “Chin up, Rumpel,” Belle admonished gently.  “Baelfire!”

        The boy ran to her side, leaving Thorrin to finish stowing items away in his saddle bags.  “Yes, m’lady?” he asked, his eyes alight with barely suppressed excitement.

        “How are you this morning?  Did you sleep well?” she asked, smiling down at him as her fingers ruffled his unruly locks.

        “Yes, m’lady, very well.”

        “Would you like to ride in the coach with us, or with Thorrin on his steed?”

        His eyes widened.  “I can ride with Thorrin?” he asked in awe, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.  He turned to his father.  “Can I, papa? Please, please, please!”

        Of course the spinner was helpless in the face of his son’s pleading.  “If it’s alright with him, I suppose.”

        Baelfire hugged his father, bowed to the princess and tore off across the courtyard to where the squire awaited him.  Belle grinned, delighted with the child.  She moved to the coach and Rumpelstiltskin offered his hand to assist her up the steps.  He stared indecisively at the open door for a moment too long, because Belle leaned forward and looked askance of him.  “Aren’t you coming?”

        He smiled hesitantly at her as he placed his foot on the step and took one last look at the village he’d always called home.  He settled on the seat opposite her and the coach jerked into motion.  This small village on the southern edge of the Frontlands had been home to him all his life.  He’d suffered ridicule and scorn, heartache and fear and a myriad of other emotions.  It had not been kind to him.  Now he took his last glimpse of it through the window, wondering if he’d ever see it again.  In two days’ time, they would reach Avonlea where a whole new future awaited him … an uncertain future which hinted at a promise of happiness.

        The spinner closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the knot of fear in his throat, praying that he wouldn’t disappoint the angel sitting across from him who’d come to save him.  He hoped the gods were listening when he asked for their blessing, because he’d rather die than disappoint his new mistress.  He was tired of being afraid.  It was time to be brave.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I dunno … do you think Rumpel’s new situation is too good to be true? I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think. See you next week :D


	3. Chapter 3

        Belle peeked up at the spinner from beneath her lashes for the third time in as many minutes.  She couldn’t seem to stop herself from watching him, fascinating as he was.  She closed the book in her lap and set it on the seat beside her.  After reading the same paragraph for the fourth time without taking in the first word, she knew it would be pointless to continue.  Her mind reeled with the ideas formulating there, ideas of how she wanted to improve his life.  There were so many questions she wished to ask about his life, how he’d injured himself, how he’d ended up with such a shrew for a wife, his childhood, his son, but she didn’t want to seem intrusive.  She didn’t want him to feel as if he were standing before an inquisitor and being judged for his past.  No, she wanted him to learn to trust her, to regard her not only as his new mistress, but as his friend.  Considering he would very seldom meet her eyes, keeping his own meekly lowered, she was going to have her work cut out for her.

        Now he sat across from her and kept his expressive sable gaze trained out the window on his son.  Baelfire’s steady stream of chatter with Thorrin filtered in through the open windows of the coach from time to time and she was confident the lad was having a wonderful adventure.  It was, however, distressing to see the worry on his father’s face.  “Try not to worry about Baelfire.  Thorrin would never allow harm to come to his young charge,” she said softly, smiling as his gaze met hers before swiftly lowering to his fidgeting fingers.  They rubbed against his thumb and she wondered if it were a nervous habit of his.

        “He’s never ridden before, m’lady,” he admitted ruefully.  “He seems to be enjoying himself.”

        “But you’re worried he’ll fall,” she finished his unspoken statement.  “We all fall at some point in our lives, don’t you agree?  We simply have to lift ourselves back up and carry on.  Otherwise we might not reach our full potential.”

        He nodded.

        Belle sighed in frustration.  “Rumpelstiltskin, look at me please,” she commanded, irritation evident in her voice.  He instantly obeyed and she could see the wary trepidation in his eyes.  “I would like for you to look at me when I speak to you.  You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

        “You are my mistress … my owner.  Isn’t it expected of me to show respect?” he said, forcing himself not to look away.  “Besides, I don’t care to see pity or scorn in the eyes of others.  It’s easier that way.”

        Belle was taken aback by the misery she heard in his voice.  “You believe I pity you?”

        “Isn’t that why you agreed to Milah’s wager?” he asked bitterly.  “Why else would you want a lame spinner as your servant?”

        Her eyes softened as her heart wrenched with an emotion she wasn’t yet ready to identify.  “No, never think that,” she said, her gentle tone sounding odd to her ears.  She was used to commanding the knights in her service, being forceful and steadfast in her requests.  Never cruel, but she wouldn’t allow them to push her around.  But with this gentle, damaged soul, she knew she would have to tread carefully to earn his trust.  “I simply saw a … a kindred spirit in you.  I know what it’s like to feel alone in a crowded room, Rumpel, where you can be surrounded by people and feel no one understands you.  I just wanted to know you, and perhaps help you if I could.”

        He stared at her in wonder.  No one had ever claimed to want to know him before.  He was lucky if he could get the vendors in the village to speak civilly to him.  “Why?” he asked, his voice filled with awe.

        She smiled.  “I see you, Rumpelstiltskin, for the kind, loving man and doting father you are.  I’m not sorry for what I did.  Milah is a cruel vindictive woman and she doesn’t deserve you.  She ridiculed you in front of every patron in that tavern, and I couldn’t let that stand.  As I said, I wanted to help you if I could.  Not because I pity you, but because you deserve better.  Thankfully, I’m in a position to do so.”

        He shook his head dolefully.  “I don’t know what you expect of me, m’lady.”  He waved a hand at his mangled ankle.  “I fear I will be a bitter disappointment to you.”

        “Nonsense,” she scoffed.  “We’re going to get on splendidly, you and I … and Baelfire too.  I think you’ll be quite happy in Avonlea, Rumpel.”

        For just a moment, he believed he could be happy with _her_.  “M’lady –“

        “Belle.  You will call me Belle, yes?” she asked brightly.

        “I couldn’t!” he said, horrified at the idea.

        “I insist.”

        He nodded, still unsure, afraid even to test it on his tongue, but the look she gave him brooked no objection.  “B-Belle …”

        “Famous!” she beamed at him.  She picked up her book once more and moved across the limited space in the coach to sit beside him.  “We’re going to be great friends.  Now, how about we begin with your reading lesson, hm?”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s brow furrowed with doubt, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Three luxurious traveling tents – a must when the princess traveled, a slave to creature comforts – surrounded a large central campfire that evening, the next town too far for them to make it as dusk slowly waned into night.  Belle’s was the largest and had been erected in the center, the other two, which housed her knights set up on either side of hers.  The small wagon which trundled along behind her sleek traveling coach was laden with all manner of bedding and she was happy with her bedroll when she rested at night, loving the way the thick silk covered down caressed her after a day spent traveling.  In Rumpelstiltskin’s opinion, it resembled the tents of the sheiks of Agrabah he’d heard tales of. 

        A gauzy curtain separated her sleeping area from the rest of the tent.  The only other ‘room’ of the structure was a small sitting area strewn with brightly colored pillows in various shades of blue and a small table and tea service Gaston had assured him would be put to use.  The princess didn’t mind camping – as long as it didn’t require her to sleep in the coach – but she refused to give up her tea.

        The newest member of her staff balked when told he’d be sharing the princess’s tent – in the sitting room, mind, but still – along with his son.  “We can’t.  It’s highly inappropriate,” he’d told Gaston.

        One raven brow had arched in his direction as a rakish grin curled the knight’s lips.  “And where did you think you’d sleep, spinner?  Out in the open by the fire?  The princess would have my head if it were so,” he’d chuckled.  “Lady Belle is of the firm belief that if she is to have a roof over her head, then so shall we.  If we were to sleep spread about the fire, she would join us and how would that look?”

        Extra bedrolls were brought into the tent and spread out in the corner and he’d had no choice in the matter, forced to accept her will.  How was he going to be able to sleep knowing she was mere yards away, tucked into the comfort of her bed … in a too revealing nightgown … which had his head spinning with thoughts of entirely too much satiny skin on display?

        He shook his head as he fetched the kettle hanging from a hook over the fire.  He’d be a fool to deny the attraction he felt for his mistress.  It had nigh killed him to have to sit next to her in the coach as she leaned into him with her book and explained the first ten letters of the alphabet and their sounds.  He’d found his mind wandering to other things as her sweet floral scent surrounded him and filled his head with cravings he hadn’t felt since the first year of his marriage to Milah.  And he would just have to suffer in silence.  She was a princess and he was her servant.  There was no way she would want him like that, and he was a fool to let himself dream.  He passed it off as being starved for affection.  The gods knew he hadn’t gotten any from Milah in more years than he could count.

        Rumpelstiltskin made his way carefully back to his mistress’s tent and poured the hot water into the china pot – how it managed to survive her travels he didn’t know – set on the low table and reset the lid so it could steep.  He busied himself tidying up – not that there was much to do – and laying out his mistress’s nightgown over the screen in one corner.  His face flamed as his fingers caressed the smooth silk, but he hurried with his task before she entered to find him fingering her unmentionables.  She’d rethink his plight if she thought he was less than honorable.  He couldn’t allow himself to sabotage this chance to start over.  He had to think about Bae and all the opportunities which awaited his son in Avonlea.

        Belle entered the tent with the lad at her heels, his impish little face alight with happiness.  It wasn’t a look he was used to seeing his son wear.  The princess took a seat on the cushions near the table and sighed happily when Rumpelstiltskin handed her the cup he’d prepared for her.  “You make a fine cup of tea, Rumpel.  Thank you, but …”

        “Yes, m’lady … er … Belle?” he remembered, correcting himself.

        She grinned at him over the rim of her cup.  “Aren’t you going to join me?”

        He’d already risen from the table to leave the tent to see about her supper, but he turned back at her invitation.  “I … um … I really should see to your supper.  And how would it look for your servant to be taking tea with you?”

        She snorted, waving a hand dismissively.  “There’s no need for formality on the road, Rumpel.  Besides, I mostly do as I please and my knights accept that.  As long as I’m not doing something that will bring shame upon my family, they prefer the relaxed atmosphere.  Now sit and I will have Thorrin bring it in when it’s ready.”  She smiled down at Baelfire sitting quietly – for a change – next to her.  “Bae, darling, would you ask Thorrin to bring in our dinner when it’s ready?”

        Rumpelstiltskin watched, his eyes following the boy as Bae skipped out of the tent.  Belle poured a cup of tea, refusing to allow him to escape her company so easily.  “You’ve a fine boy in Baelfire,” she said softly, remembering to keep her tone muted so as not to startle him.  “I got the impression that you’ve been raising him alone.  Another reason for you to be proud.”

        He stared down into his cup, savoring the sweetness of the sugar and the tartness of the lemon.  “Bae is everything to me.  There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him.  Milah, I’m sure, loved him in her own way, but … she had little time for either of us.”

        “And yet you stayed with her.”

        “She was my wife.  It was my responsibility to see to her needs and wants.”  He didn’t want to tell her how he’d stayed because he didn’t want people to scorn him more than they already did.  What kind of man left his wife to fend for herself, no matter how much she might deserve it?

        Belle balled her free hand into a tight fist to stop herself from reaching for his own where it lay against the table.  She wanted so much to comfort him.  “Did you love her?”

        He raised those dark soulful eyes to her and allowed her to see the desolation in their depths.  “Love?  I don’t know that I ever loved Milah … perhaps long ago before I went away to war.”

         Her gaze was sympathetic but in no way pitying as she asked, “How did you injure yourself, Rumpel?  Was it the ogres, or …”  She could already see him closing himself off from her, erecting more walls than she had the strength to battle through at the moment.  He was saved from answering as Thorrin entered the tent behind an exuberant Baelfire.

        “I’m sorry, the fare is meager, milady,” the young squire apologized.  “Gwain and Merrick were able to snare a few rabbits, but the bread we procured from the bakery in the village is still fresh.  It should provide ample sustenance until morning.”

        “Thank you, Thorrin, as always.”

        Thorrin bowed gallantly and grinned, winking at Baelfire as the lad placed three tankards on the table, two filled with mead and one with milk.  “See you tomorrow, squirt.”

        Bae waved.  “Bye, Thorrin!”  He tore into a roasted rabbit leg which Belle set before him and stuffed his mouth.  “Are we going to –“

        “Bae, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Rumpelstiltskin scolded gently, giving him that look all father’s gave their children when they did something they knew they shouldn’t.

        He swallowed and looked up at Belle with adoring eyes.  “Are we going to reach Avonlea tomorrow?”

        Belle nodded.  “Yes, we will.  And then you will get to see your new room and the library and meet my father the king.”

        Rumpelstiltskin listened to Belle tell the boy more and more stories of her home, long after their dinner was finished and the dishes had been cleared away.  He found that he enjoyed listening to her, the sound of her voice soothing and kind.  They had only spent one day with his new mistress, but already he was beginning to think it was a bargain well made.  Finally, Baelfire yawned and he was forced to put an end to their quiet evening.

        “But, papa,” Bae said, rubbing his eyes.  “I’m not sleepy.”

        “Of course you’re not,” Rumpelstiltskin said dryly.  “But if you don’t rest tonight, you’ll have to ride in the coach with me and Lady Belle instead of riding with your new friend.”

        The boy took off like a shot for his bedroll, calling a quick goodnight to the princess.  Belle giggled.  “Typical boy,” she laughed.  “They’ll do anything you ask as long as you don’t take away their adventures.  My brother, Lucern, he’s like that and he’s nearly twenty five.”

        “Will there be anything else, Belle?” he asked, mesmerized by her sweet laughter as he ignored the pang of longing clenching at his heart.

        “No, Rumpel.  You may retire if you like.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

        He bowed to her and picked up his staff, making his way to his bedroll.  He laid down and reached out to tuck the blanket about his son’s shoulders, his soft snores already filling their corner of the tent.  He sighed, letting the tension ease from his body.  For so long, he had been plagued with fear … for his son, for himself.  Would they have enough to eat?  Would they be warm enough?  Would he make enough from his spinning to provide for them?  It weighed on his mind every night as he found his pillow, but not tonight.  Sleep found him quickly, confident in his mistress to see to their needs as he would see to hers.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Bae!  Baelfire!  Where are you son?” the spinner hissed frantically, trying to be quiet so as not to wake his mistress.  There was no sign of his son, and he was steadily growing panicky.  “Bae!”

        Rumpelstiltskin pulled himself to his feet with the aid of his staff and limped towards the tent flap, his ankle shrieking in protest at his rapid pace.  He couldn’t have cared less.  He had to find the lad.  Their little camp was already rousing to life and Baelfire sat with Fitzpatrick, their coachman, as he stirred a pot of porridge over the fire.  The relief he felt nearly sent him to his knees.

        “G’mornin’, papa,” the boy greeted, giving him a wide toothy smile.  “Hungry?”

        “What’re you thinking, son?  My old heart nearly stopped when I woke and found you gone!” he scolded, reaching for an empty bucket to take with him to the stream. 

        “I’m sorry, papa.  I didn’t think you’d wake before I could come back in, and Fitzpatrick was telling me about the ogre attacks on Avonlea a few years ago,” he explained, hanging his head. 

        Rumpelstiltskin felt his heart gripped with fear.  “Ogres?”

        “They’re gone now,” Fitzpatrick said, ladling up a bowl of the porridge for Gaston, who sat on a log near the fire, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.  The knight had taken sentry duty the night before and it was evident on his tired face.  “The prince led a charge on the pass and blocked their way into the kingdom.  Those brutes aren’t the smartest creatures and had to find another route.  Thankfully, they bypassed Avonlea altogether.”

        Baelfire took a bowl of porridge from the coachman turned cook and sat down beside the knight.  “I didn’t mean to worry you, papa.  I promise.”

        “Alright, lad, alright.”  He waved the bucket he held in his hand and smiled at his boy.  “Just let me know next time, yeah?”  When Baelfire nodded, he set off through the trees to fetch water for Belle’s morning tea.  The rest would be heated for her toilette.  Baelfire had always been impulsive, but with his new duties, he didn’t want to have to worry about the boy’s welfare.  He needed Bae to mind and stick close to his boundaries.

        Baelfire was done with his breakfast and helping Thorrin with the horses when he returned and filled the kettle.  By the time he had the water heated for washing and brought it into the tent, the princess was already sitting up and stretching her arms over her head, a huge yawn sounding from behind her gauzy curtain.  He sloshed some of the water over onto the thick Agrabahan rug in his hurry to fill the basin.

        “I-I’m sorry I haven’t prepared your tea yet, m’lady.  I’ll do better,” he offered, hurrying from the tent once more to fetch the kettle.  She was sitting at the table when he returned, her sleepy eyes watching him with bemusement.  He flushed scarlet under her perusal and filled the china pot to let the tea steep.

        “Rumpel,” she said, reaching out him, her fingers curling over his wrist.  He raised fearful eyes to meet hers.  “Relax.  You’re doing fine, ok?  Take a deep breath and see to our breakfast.  Has Bae eaten already?”

        He stared at her, a frown marring his brow.  “You want me to eat with you again, m’la – Belle?” he corrected himself when she arched a brow at him.

        “I do.  You’re entirely too thin, Rumpel.  At least if you eat with me, I know you’re actually eating.”

        He gaped at her for a moment before he went off to see about their breakfast, returning with it shortly.  He set the bowls on the table along with a small pot of honey and pitcher of cream.  Belle poured tea for them both.  He felt his face flush as he concentrated on his food.  He could feel her eyes on him in silent contemplation and it made him uncomfortable.  What if she could see into his heart and learn who he really was … a coward unworthy to serve her?

        “You shouldn’t eat so fast, Rum,” she said, breaking the heavy silence between them.  “My men aren’t going to leave without us, I assure you.”

        His blush deepened as he looked up at her.  “I just … I have duties to see to and I don’t want to be the cause for our delay.”

        “Very well,” she smiled.  “You know you won’t have that excuse once we reach Avonlea.”

        It took him a long moment of gaping, his spoon arrested before his mouth, before he realized she was jesting with him.  He gulped his last bite of porridge and finished off his tea before asking to be excused.  She let him go with a nod and watched him go to her trunk to lay out her traveling costume on her bed.

        Belle gave up trying to engage him in conversation and pushed her bowl aside.  She couldn’t wait to get home and have one of Mrs. Pott’s home cooked dinners and a decent bath. Oh, she’d kill for a hot bath!  Rumpelstiltskin cleared away their breakfast dishes as she disappeared behind her screen to wash and dress.  It took two trips to gather the dishes _and_ the tea service, but he was industrious and didn’t allow his leg to hinder him.  He’d just finished with latching her trunk and rolling up their bedrolls, ready for her knights to dismantle the tent, when she called to him.

        “Rumpel?” she asked hesitantly, not sure how he’d take her request.  “Would you braid my hair for me?”  She didn’t make it a command, but he knew she was without her maid and she didn’t think it was too much of her to ask.  Yet she could see the Adam’s apple bob in his throat at the thought of touching her.  Could it be that he was as attracted to her as she was to him?

        “Um … of course,” he whispered hoarsely, taking the brush from her hands and motioning for her to take a seat there on the cushions next to the table.  He settled behind her, making sure to keep his body from touching hers and slowly dragged the brush through her luxuriant hair.  Forcing his eyes to remain open, and ignoring the heady emotions stealing over his lithe form, he set to work.  He used careful strokes, stopping and unknotting several tangles before continuing.  It was so soft, not course like Milah’s had been, and he found he could lose himself in the task.

        Belle closed her eyes and sighed in contentment as his fingers followed after the brush, carding through the strands to massage her scalp each time the bristles snagged or pulled.  His touch as light as butterfly wings, the barest hint of his breath on her neck as he leaned in close, worked magic on her innocent flesh.  Goosebumps erupted on her arms and back and a strange sensation pooled in her belly.  She’d never felt anything like it, but she knew what it was.  She’d overheard enough talk from her ladies in waiting and from the maids who served her to know that she desired this man.

        “Alright, Bluebelle, let’s see if –“ Gaston halted in his tracks as he came to a screeching halt just inside the tent flap.  One look at the sheer bliss on his lady’s face had his hand hovering threateningly over the hilt of his sword.  He stayed his hand, however, when he saw that the spinner was simply braiding Belle’s hair into a long plait down her back.  He cleared his throat.  “Let’s … um … see if we can’t get your tent packed so we can be on our way.”

        Rumpelstiltskin took the jeweled clip from her trembling fingers – not that his were much steadier – and fastened it around the end of her braid.  “I’m done, m’lady,” he said, cursing silently at the breathy tone of his voice.

        “Thank you, Rum,” she said, casting a warning look at Gaston.  “Why don’t you see to Bae before we depart,” she suggested, sending him out of the tent before her friend exploded in want of explanations.

        She didn’t have to wait long.  “What the hell are you playing at with the spinner, Belle?”

        Belle rose from her seat on the cushions and reached for the jacket of her jade riding habit.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

        “Am I going to have to post a guard in your tent to protect your virtue?” he hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the others of his pique.

        “Don’t be absurd, Gaz.  There’s nothing going on between us.  I’ve barely known him a full day,” she retorted.  She swept out of the tent so her men could dismantle it, wandering closer to the tree line, knowing he’d follow to continue their conversation.

        “And last I checked, Belle, there are no rules of etiquette where lust is involved.  You _want_ him.  Your desire was written plainly on your beautiful face.”  He crossed his arms over his chest as he smirked down at her.  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

        Belle sighed and bit her lip, her gaze falling to the grass at her feet.  “You’re not wrong,” she said, unable to lie to her dearest friend. 

        “Belle,” he groaned.  “He’s a servant.  As it is, Luc is going to have kittens with you dragging home a stray, especially after he finds out how you came to be his owner.”

        “Don’t talk about Rumpel like he’s a pet to be kept on a leash or discarded to a shelter.  He’s a man … a fine man from what I’ve been able to tell.”  Her eyes were a bit wistful as she met his gaze.  “I like him.  I just want to have the chance to get to know him.”

        He scrubbed his hands over his face and yawned widely.  “Just make sure you ‘getting to know him’ doesn’t involve crawling into bed with him without a ring first.”

        Belle rolled her eyes.  “Yes, dear.”

        “I mean it!!”

        “I’m well aware of that, Gaz.”  She took note of the tiredness clinging to his features.  “And since you were on sentry duty last night, I think it would be best for you to ride in the coach for a while and take a nap.  You don’t mind if Rumpel and I ride Storm, do you?”

        He gave a long suffering sigh as he looked down into her twinkling blue eyes.  “Belle,” he whined, knowing she’d get her way whether he wished it or not.

        The princess patted him on the cheek and sashayed across the clearing to collect her servant and share the good news.  She wondered briefly if Rumpelstiltskin would see it that way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m so glad everyone seems to be enjoying this story so far. It’s been so much fun writing it :D Next chapter … Rum and Belle have an illuminating conversation as they continue on towards Avonlea. Thanks so much for reading … see you next week!!!


	4. Chapter 4

 

        Milah hummed softly as she left her bags by the door of the cottage and pulled it shut behind her.  The morning was bright and everything was ready in preparation to leave the village far behind.  She’d spent the previous day gathering her things and giving the rest away to the widow down the lane who’d lost her husband in a recent draft.  It had been too painful to go through Baelfire’s things that had been left behind, but she’d had no such qualms about tossing out Rumpelstiltskin’s.  She was right glad to be done with him, even though she’d had to lose her son to do so.  Perhaps one day, when she’d found herself a wealthy new love, she could send for him.  That contract she’d signed couldn’t be all that binding, could it?

        She felt free!  Happier than she’d been in years.  If her husband had never returned from the ogre war, she would have been a widow, comfortable in the arms of the village who always looked after their own.  She wouldn’t have had to live under the stigma of Rumpelstiltskin’s cowardice.  She wouldn’t have been pitied.  She hated pity.  She turned down the lane which would lead to the tavern.  It wouldn’t hurt to have a bite to eat and maybe one last game with her friends, she thought happily, her steps eager as she marched onward.  Afterwards, she could fetch the mare she’d bought from the community stables and be on her way to new experiences.  Adventure awaited and she would heed its call with a glad heart.

        Milah sighed.  She had no doubt the princess would take good care of Baelfire.  He’d probably be better off with her, growing up in a palace with every comfort near to hand.  She really couldn’t have cared less what happened to her coward of a husband.  She hoped the princess would have him flogged at least once a day to whip his lame ass into shape.  Maybe then he’d learn not to shirk his duties.

        The tavern was teeming with patrons – as it usually was around the noon hour – as she threw open the worn door and stepped inside.  She wasn’t expecting the raucous bunch to fall silent upon her arrival.  Ignoring them all, she made her way to her usual table towards the back and took her seat.  Marie and Talia, the two barmaids on duty, briefly met her eyes before completely turning their backs on her.  What the hell was going on?  They’d never shown her such open hostility before.

        Milah left her seat, more than a little put out because she hadn’t been served.  It wasn’t like she didn’t have the funds to cover a little food and drink.  Making her way to the bar, she slapped her hand down on the rough-hewn surface.  “’S’matter, Pete?  Too busy to serve me today?  Your girls are slacking,” she snarked with a bright smile.  He’d always liked her, so she felt at ease teasing him.

        “Sorry, Milah, we won’t be serving you today,” he said, unable to meet her eyes.

        “What?” she asked, taken aback by the open scorn in his voice.  “And I’ll be knowing why!”

        Talia snorted, her tone mocking.  “’Why’, she asks.  As if she doesn’t know!”

        “After wha’ ye did ta yer own ‘usband, yer lucky ye weren’t tossed out on yer arse th’ second ye walked through th’ door,” Marie sneered, whirling to face her with nothing but derision dripping from her voice. “And yer puir wee one.  How could you sell yer own son?!”

        Talia tossed her ginger hair and braced her hands on her hips before spitting at Milah’s feet.  “What kinda monster are you?”

        Milah’s lip curled in distaste as she looked down her long nose at them, her eyes flashing hotly.  “Oh, please,” she scoffed.  “Not one person in this village liked Rumpelstiltskin, even before he left for war and came home a coward.  You’re all a bunch of hypocrites!”

        Cuthbert rose from a table littered with his friends, pushing his luncheon away as his appetite soured.  “Doesna excuse what ye did, Milah.  Ye gambled away yer ‘usband an’ sold yer boy.”

        Magnus, the village blacksmith, turned on her next.  “Wha’ type o’ mon will ever wan’ ye again, lass, when ‘e finds oout wha’ a mercenary little harpy ye be?”

        “… vile woman.”

        “… should be ashamed.”

        “… despicable.”

        “… spinner shoulda beat her when he had the chance.”

        “… puir wee Bae.”

        Milah fought down her rising panic as more and more of the patrons turned their anger upon her.  She tried to remain calm, but it wasn’t easy.  “I can’t believe you’re all going to stand there and judge me.  You know what I went through these past years being shackled to the village coward.”

        Pete threw his cleaning rag down on the bar and turned to face her.  “And yet ‘e stayed wi’ yer miserable arse and took care o’ ye like a ‘usband should.  Yer a disgrace, Milah, an’ I don’t wan’ ter see ye in me tavern again.  Get out!” he snarled, pointing to the door.

        Before she knew it, Milah found herself on the threshold, Marie brandishing her serving tray like a weapon should the spinner’s former wife think to cause a scene.  Marie gave a haughty toss of her head and sneered down at the woman.  “I ‘ope the spinner an’ ‘is son both find ‘appiness wi’ th’ lady Belle.  Theys deserve it after havin’ to deal wi’ a worthless cur like ye!”

        Milah gaped after her as the door was slammed in her face.  What the hell had just happened?  It wasn’t possible!  How could they just turn on her?  She hadn’t done anything wrong.  It wasn’t as if she was the first person who’d ever done such a thing.  Just because she was a woman …

        She pulled her shawl more securely about her shoulders and set off for the stables.  The sooner she left this godsforsaken village behind, the sooner she could begin her new life.  She had to wait a good quarter of an hour to have the stable boy come out to tell her the horse she’d purchased needed to be refitted with a new set of shoes before she would be able to leave and they wouldn’t come cheap.  Damnit!  What else could possibly go wrong?

        Assuring the boy she’d be back that evening, she headed back towards the cottage to find something she could prepare for her lunch.  She was still bristling angrily over her treatment at the tavern and didn’t see the man until she’d run into him.  “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, her eyes widening to see the Duke’s tacksman.  Was it that time of the month already?  She groaned, cursing her luck.

        “Mistress Milah, how lovely to see you this fine day,” the oily man said in greeting, his thin lips stretching into a leering grin.  “Might I escort you?”

        “T-There’s no need.  I-I was just on my way home, sir.”  She did _not_ need this today. 

        The man reached out and took her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow.  “Oh, but I insist.”

        She cast him a smile that more resembled a grimace, having no choice but to allow him to lead her down the lane towards her home.

        “I was rather surprised not to see you at the tavern when I stopped in to collect their tax share.”  He dipped close to her ear in a conspiratorial manner.  “I inquired after you.”

        She tittered a nervous laugh.  “Did you really?”

        “Indeed,” he said, licking over his dry lips as his gaze traveled over her slender form, his eyes lingering on her breasts.  “Imagine my surprise when Marie was only too eager to tell me why you weren’t there.”

        Her azure eyes closed in resignation as he stopped before her door.  “I-I –“

        “Let’s not play games, dear.  It seems you are now without your man.  What do you think we should do, Mistress?  Taxes on your cottage still need to be collected.  Now that Rumpelstiltskin – the primary lessee – is no longer here to provide for you, the land is now forfeit and reverts back to the duke.  He’s going to want to lease it out to another tenant I’m sure.”  He raised his hand to trail his fingers over her smooth cheek and along her exposed collarbone.  “Not to mention you will have to pay what is left of the year’s dues.”

        Milah forced herself to swallow against the nausea rising within her.

        “I’m sure we can come to some sort of … arrangement.”

        She forced a smile to her lips and stepped a little closer.  If she paid him outright more than what she owed for this month’s tax, it would substantially cut into the gold she’d won last night and she couldn’t have that.  She needed that money to begin her new life and she wouldn’t let anything stand in her way of that.  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d paid a debt in such a manner, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.  If she could withstand her husband’s poor attempts at lovemaking, she could surely endure those of the brawny tax collector.  She pushed the door open and cast him an inviting smile.  “I’m certain we can, sir.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle arched a brow at her servant as he stood there eyeing Gaston’s ebony steed as if the beast were going to gobble him whole.  “Rumpel, have you never ridden before?” she asked gently. 

        He shook his head mutely, never taking his eyes from the animal.

        Her brow furrowed in a puzzled frown.  “Not even in the war?”

        “No, m’lady, I was part of the infantry and we weren’t allowed to ride.  We marched through the mud as was our duty,” he replied honestly.

        Another thought occurred to her and she mentally kicked herself.  “Are you afraid of Storm?  I assure you, for a spirited beast, he can be quite gentle with the proper handling.”  If he were afraid to ride, she could always allow him to ride in the coach with Gaston.  It would, however, dampen her hopes to get to know him better.

        He cast her a wry smile.  “Not exactly.  I’m more concerned as to how I’m going to manage climbing atop the wily beast.”

        Belle laughed softly, her expression softening with humor.  “I’m sure we’ll manage,” she said with a nod.  “The saddle is large enough to accommodate the two of us, so we should be quite comfortable.  Thankfully, Gaston is a great hulking mule and requires a larger saddle than some of my other knights.”  She held out her hand for his staff and called Gwain over to ask for his assistance.

        “Lady Belle?” Gwain asked with a smart bow in her direction, his shaggy ginger hair falling over his left eye.

        “Sir Gwain, with Rumpel’s bad ankle, what would be the best way for him to mount?” she queried, walking around the steed to view him from all sides.  The knight followed, eyeing the spinner speculatively.

        He smile.  “I have it.  Merrick, fetch that log beside the fire, would you?” he called to his fellow comrade.  “I think, m’lady, it would be best to have him step up on the log to lessen the distance he has to pull himself up.  Left foot in the stirrup as he holds onto the pommel and then over with the right.”  He grinned at Rumpelstiltskin.  “Or I could simply toss him up, if you prefer.”

        “Behave, Gwain,” Belle chuckled, sharing in his laughter.  She was sorry a moment later when she noticed her servant’s downcast gaze.  She moved to his side and placed her hand on his forearm.  “He’s only teasing, Rumpel.  Don’t take offense.  My men could all make wonderful court jesters if they decided to leave their knighthood behind, I assure you.  Teasing is a sport to them.”  She only hoped he would relax and see it for what it was.

        He nodded and squared his shoulders in determination as Merrick set the log down next to Storm.  He gripped the pommel tightly in his hand before shakily climbing atop the log.  His right leg trembled as he set his left foot in the stirrup, but he was able to do as Gwain had instructed and in seconds found himself sitting in the saddle. 

        Belle patted the stallion’s long neck with her gloved hand, crooning to it soothingly.  “There, there, my darling, be at ease.  It’s alright.”  The horse tossed his head and then nuzzled his nose into the lady’s hand.  “That’s a lovely darling.  I’ll see if Gaston has an apple for you later … if you’re a good boy.”  She petted him a few moments longer and then mounted in front of her servant.

        “We’re ready to move out as soon as you are, m’lady,” Gwain informed her before mounting his own steed.  He moved off to join the others, leaving Belle and Rumpelstiltskin to follow.

        Belle shot him a coy smile over her shoulder when several minutes passed and he still hadn’t put his arms about her waist.  “Rumpel, you’re going to need to hold onto me.  I don’t want you to lose your seat.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes widened in horror at the very thought, but what other choice did he have?  His hands uncurled from the fists they’d been balled into and he hesitantly placed them on his lady’s waist.  His gaze found hers only to find her shaking her head.  She reached down and took his hands, pulling his arms about her waist and folding his hands one over the other until his front was flush with her back.  He suppressed a shiver, feeling her touch even through the soft leather of her gloves.  He cleared his throat, cursing silently.  How was he supposed to travel like this?

        His chin fell forward against his chest, his hair falling over his brow.  Hopefully it would shield the bright flush of his cheeks from her avid gaze.  “This is highly inappropriate, highness.”

        Belle’s smile slipped as she turned to face forward and clicked her tongue to set Storm into motion.  She didn’t like the subtle reminder, nor how he used her title to get his point across without being rude.  “There is absolutely nothing wrong with us riding together.”

        He gave her a dubious look.

        “Ok, maybe technically … but that’s beside the point.  It’s not like we’re in Avonlea yet where we’ll have to bow to society’s dictates,” she said bitterly, not looking forward to the strictures she’d have to follow when she returned home.  She’d always been a tactile person, and she found she rather liked the feel of his arms around her.  She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he gathered her close of his own accord.

        “Your men don’t object to your deviance from protocol?”

        She chuckled, smiling at him over her shoulder.  “Of course not.  They were handpicked by my father and brother to watch over me.  I’ve ridden with them all at one time or another.  Mostly Gaston, though.  We were raised together and remain friends now that we’re older.”

        “Friends?  Surely, you have ladies you call friends at court?”

        Belle wrinkled her nose as she thought of the sycophants who trailed after her as they tried to garner her favor.  “Not really,” she demurred.  “I would rather spend time in my library than with the court.”  She leaned back into him and sighed, delighting in the way they fit together so perfectly.  He was slowly becoming a source of comfort in her life she hadn’t realized she’d been lacking.  “But enough about me.  You’ll learn your fair share about me when we reach Avonlea, I’m sure.  I want to know more about you.”

        “Why?” he asked incredulously.  “You don’t need to know my background in order to have me serve you.”

        “True,” she acceded, “but I _do_ need to know about you if I’m going to be your friend … which is my hope … that you and I might be friends.”

        He shook his head in consternation.  Why would she want to be friends with him?  She already had him in her service for the duration of five years.  Why would she want more?  He opened his mouth to tell her so, but it wasn’t what passed his lips.  “What do you want to know,” he found himself asking instead.

        Belle followed her knights at a sedate pace, enjoying the sunshine and fresh air.  She could imagine what her brother would say when she returned home with a bit of color to her cheeks.  She bit her lip thoughtfully as she wondered what she could ask Rumpelstiltskin that wouldn’t upset him too badly.  She already knew to avoid the subject of his ankle.  “What was your childhood like?  Was your family large with lots of children?”

        He stiffened behind her, his entire body going rigid with tension.

        “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Rumpel.  I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

        Rumpelstiltskin looked off into the distance, his jaw tight.  “I was an only child.  My mother died in childbirth and I was raised by my … my father until I was eight.”

        “Oh, did he pass?” she asked, her cerulean gaze filled with sympathy for his loss.

        “Not exactly,” he snorted bitterly.  “He left me with my two spinster aunts when he saw what a burden I was and I never saw him again.”  It was partly true, but she’d never believe the whole of it.  It was best if she didn’t think he was crazy.  Really, who would believe his father would abandon him in order to gain eternal youth?

        Belle wrapped the reins around her left hand and covered both of his with her right, rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles.  Anger flared hot and thick in her blood as she imagined the anguish he must have suffered.  “And your aunts.  Were they good to you?”

        “Aye,” he murmured huskily around the lump of emotion lodged in his throat.  “They taught me how to spin.  It’s a useful trade and I find I like the motion of the wheel and the way the material flows through my fingers.  It’s soothing.”

        And she was sure he had more than one demon riding his back that the wheel was able to chase away for a time.  “What do you spin, Rumpel.  Is there a particular favorite of yours?”

        “Wool, mostly.  I had an Angora goat once.  Oh, Belle, it produced the softest yarn.  I bought him at market for well under cost.  The man who owned him hadn’t cared for him properly and wanted to get rid of him.”  His voice filled with eagerness to share this tale with her and it made Belle smile, finally having found something to talk about which didn’t cause him pain.  “You see, it’s important to brush the animal every day to prevent knots and tangles.  Then when it’s time for sheering, the wool is so fine and soft.”

        “It sounds wonderful, Rum.  You should have brought him along.  We’ve –“

        “I couldn’t.  Milah hated that goat.”

        Just as easily as her spirits had soared at his tale, they plummeted somewhere in the region of his feet at the mention of that horrid woman.  “Oh no.  Did she make you sell him?”

        “No.  Baelfire was three, I think.  We’d gone to market that day to sell my wares and when we returned home …” He shuddered as the memory washed over him.  “She’d killed him.  The poor beastie was roasting on a spit in the front yard.”

        Belle felt sick.  “I’m so sorry.”

        “I loved that goat.  Bae did too.”

        The princess could feel tears sting her eyes, but refused to let them fall.  She’d make certain he was never unhappy again.  She’d buy him ten of the long haired goats and perhaps a rabbit … or five.  He’d always have the luxuriant wool to spin if it was his wish.  Her throat closed over as her depression mounted and they fell silent, lost in their own thoughts.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Hours later, they stopped at a posting inn three hours ride from the gates of the city.  Belle was tired and cranky from being in the saddle for so long.  Rumpelstiltskin slid easily from Storm’s back, leaving one hand on the saddle to steady himself once he was on the ground.  He held out his arms to her, his hands sliding easily now about her waist as he helped her down.  She stumbled into him, her arms winding about his neck as she regained her balance.  He sucked in a deep breath, her sweet floral scent teasing at his nose as he breathed her in.  She was so intoxicating … and not for him, he reminded himself.

        She apologized for her clumsiness as Gwain moved forward, Rumpelstiltskin’s staff clutched loosely in his hand.  The spinner thanked him and leaned heavily upon it, his free hand moving to Belle’s elbow until she had regained her bearings.  When she assured him she was fine, he excused himself and went to seek out his son.  Her eyes followed him as he made his way to the boy’s side and scooped him up into his arms, hugging him tightly.

        “Well, that was interesting,” Gaston said from behind her as he came to see to his stallion.  “Why didn’t you just reach up and kiss him, Belle?  It couldn’t have been any more shocking than watching you practically eat him with your eyes.”

        He waggled his eyebrows at her when she turned to glare at him.  “Knock it off, Gaz.”

        Gaston wrapped the reins around his left hand and offered his other to Belle.  She settled her fingers in the crook on his arm and rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh.  “Bluebelle, I’m only teasing,” he assured her, turning serious.

        “I know.”

        “People fall in love everyday … er … though maybe not that fast.”

        “Gaz, I’m not in love –“

        “Not yet, but, Belle … _could_ you love him?” he asked, stopping in the grassy courtyard of the inn to face her.  “You’ve waited for years to find love.  Gods know Lucern and your father have trotted nearly every nobleman in the kingdom beneath your nose and you haven’t taken the slightest interest in any of them.”

        Belle toyed with a loose thread on his uniform jacket.  “I really don’t know.  I’ve never been in love before,” she said in a small voice.

        “But you know you desire him.  Sometimes that can very well blossom into love.  You care for his son already. You want the spinner close to you … enough to have him ride with you.” He lowered his voice, his eyes darting from side to side to make certain none of his men were eavesdropping.  A bunch of old gossips, they were.  “You let him braid your hair!”

        “I don’t have a maid!”  She was seconds away from stamping her foot. 

        “Belle,” he growled in frustration.  “Look, all I’m saying is that if you think he could be the one … the one you’ve been looking for all your life, the one that you feel you could love … really, _really_ love, don’t give up on him because he’s not of your class or station.  If he can make you happy … fight for him.”  He tied Storm’s reins to the hitching post and grabbed her hand, pulling him along behind her.  “Some of us can spend our whole lives looking and never find it.”

        She tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop before he could enter the inn.  “Is that why you’ve stayed with me for as long as you have? Because you haven’t found her yet?”

        His smile was bittersweet, his dark eyes sad.  “I stay with you because I love you, Belle.  You’re the best friend I’ve ever had … and it’s refreshing that you can see through my charm to the bullshitter I really am,” he chuckled.  “And I’ll continue to stay with you until I find the woman meant for me.”  He pulled her towards the door and into the dimly lit room to a seat where the spinner and his son sat waiting for her.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin’s hands fisted and relaxed over and over again in his lap, his gaze focused out of the window of the coach.  Belle had insisted both he and Baelfire ride with her, wanting to have them at her side when they rode through the gates of her kingdom.  He was so nervous, not knowing what to expect from his new position as her servant.  He’d never even been farther than his village except when he’d had to report to the front to fight the ogres.  What if she expected more than he was able to give?  He had never regretted his lame ankle more than in that moment.  A fine servant he’d make when he had to rely on his staff to be able to put one foot in front of the other.

        Yet he was determined to give her his all.  His eyes drifted back into the coach, to his son, asleep with his head in the princess’s lap, her delicate fingers carding through his curls.  Baelfire was just as taken with Belle as he himself was, but what good would it do them?  They had but five years in her service … if he so chose.  Why would she even give him a choice?  Already he was forming attachments to her that were better left alone.  He thought back to that morning, his arms wrapped about her waist, her scent strong in his nose as her hair brushed against his face.  The beauty of her smile and the touch of her hand upon his had been an intoxicating combination.  How could he not feel something for her?

        From the moment he’d met her, she’d saved him from a lonely existence filled with cruelty and scorn, embraced his son as if he were her own flesh and blood and showed them both nothing but kindness, all in the span of two days.  He would have to tread carefully where she was concerned, or he’d do the unforgivable and lose his heart to her.  He couldn’t allow himself to love again, not after what Milah had done to him.  He needed to focus on Bae and his duties to Belle.  That would be his goal … to please them.  Perhaps in Avonlea, he could forget what he was before.  Here, no one knew him for the coward he was.  No one knew what he’d done in order to be a father to his child.  Here he was just another face in the crowd.  He could reinvent himself.  Here he would have a new beginning.

        He glanced over at Belle as she watched over his son.  Here he had a … friend.  And with her, he had something he never thought he’d have.  Hope.  She smiled at him and he felt warmth flood his chest.  Once again he turned his gaze to the passing scenery, his eyes widening at the splendor all around him.  The dirt roads they traveled gave way to cobbled streets and immense wrought iron gates loomed before them.  Guards milled around them, their fine gold and navy livery marking them as servants of Avonlea.  He startled as the blast of a trumpet announced the return of the princess.  He felt like a fool gaping at the sights as they rode through the gates and into the city proper.

        Belle woke Baelfire and he rubbed sleepily at his eyes, unable to take it all in.  “Papa!  There’s so much to see.  We’ll surely get lost with so many people.”

        “You have nothing to fear, darling,” Belle said softly.  “You’ll always have someone to lead you.  You are far too precious for us to lose you, isn’t that right?”  She reached over and took his hand in hers and then did the same with the spinner.  “Tonight we will feast and say a prayer of thanks for our safe journey.  Welcome to Avonlea.”

        Rumpelstiltskin said his own prayer before they even reached the palace.  A prayer that he and Bae would find happiness amidst the controlled chaos, happiness or at the very least … contentment. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, at least Milah is starting to see that … Karma is a bitch! Mwahahahaha! Soooo, what did you think? Do you think they’re heading in the right direction? I do! Having so so so much fun with this prompt. Next week, Belle deals with the fallout of her actions. Her brother is a bit miffed. Thanks so much for reading!!


	5. Chapter 5

 

        “Rumpel?  Rumpelstiltskin, are you alright?” Belle asked worriedly as the color drained from her servant’s face.  She’d merely mentioned that he’d be meeting her father and brother when they arrived and he’d gone pale as a sheet.  His lips parted and she could see he was struggling to breathe. 

        “Papa?” Bae asked, frowning curiously at his father.

        Belle patted the boy’s shoulder reassuringly and moved to the opposite seat.  Her close proximity only seemed to make matters worse.  His eyes were dark and unfocused, his breathing heavy and he seemed to be locked away in his own misery where she couldn’t reach him.  She clasped his face in her hands and swung his head around so he was forced to meet her gaze.

        “What’s wrong with papa?” Baelfire asked in a tiny voice laced with fear as he knelt between them and laid his hand on his father’s knee.

        “It’s ok, darling,” she said soothingly to the child.  “He’ll be fine.  I think he’s just a bit overwhelmed.  Will you help me?”  She smiled at the boy, trying to keep him as calm as possible and then turned her attention back to the spinner.  “Rum, dear, I need you to breathe, ok?  There’s nothing to fear from my family, you’ll see.  You’re just nervous, that’s all.”

        Baelfire took Rumpelstiltskin’s left hand in both of his and brought it to his cheek.  “’S ok, papa,” he said softly.

        Belle leaned closer, her thumbs rubbing lightly over his cheekbones.  “Rum, please come back to me.  Bae needs you to be strong for him.  I know you have it in you to be brave.  You’re just having a bout of nerves.”

        Rumpelstiltskin dragged in a deep ragged breath at the mention of his son and his face flamed crimson with mortification.  “I-I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry, princess,” he stammered as she released him.  He reached for his boy, pulling him onto his lap.  “I’m ok, Bae.”

        Belle linked the fingers of his free hand with hers, refusing to move back to her own seat until she knew he was well.  “There’s no reason for you to be sorry, Rumpel.  You’ve lived your whole life in that village in the Frontlands.  Even the markets available in the surrounding area wouldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of Avonlea.  It’s only natural for you to be nervous.”

        He tried to steady his breathing.  Baelfire on one side and Belle on the other went a long way in calming him.  He was growing too attached to her, he thought, but there was no help for it.  She had a way of breaking through the walls he’d built to protect himself over the years.  Her kindness, her compassion and her outright gift of friendship was like a drug and he was helpless to resist her allure.  “My apologies, princess … truly.”

        Belle reached up and brushed away a bit of hair which had fallen into his eyes.  “Think nothing of it, Rum.  When we get to the palace, hold tightly to Bae.  We don’t want him getting lost.  And you are to stay where I can see you at all times.  If you can’t see me, then I can’t see you.  Got it?”

        “Yes, m’lady,” he said, nodding vigorously.

        “Rumpel,” she replied in a soothing tone, her smile gentle.  “Just as you will serve me, so will I care for you.  Don’t be afraid.  Before you know it, you will feel right at home here with me.”  She turned her smile on Baelfire.  “Won’t he, sweetheart?”

        “Yes, m’lady,” he chirped enthusiastically.  He snuggled into his father’s embrace and whispered, “And no one is going to be mean to you anymore … ‘specially mama.”

        Belle wanted to delve into the matter more, but all too soon the sound of trumpets carried through the twilight as they pulled into the courtyard.  “Alright, you two, chins up,” she encouraged them.  She didn’t have time to say more before the coach door was being opened and the steps let down so she could disembark.

        A new fear gripped her as she stepped out into the torch-lit courtyard and she quickly called Thorrin over to her as he dismounted.  He bowed to the princess and trained his full attention on her.  “Thorrin, I want you to remain with Rumpelstiltskin and his son.  Do not leave them for a moment.  Is that understood?”

        “Yes, Highness,” he said, reverting to her formal title now that they were back in Avonlea.

        “Gods, it’s good to be back!” Gaston guffawed as he joined her and offered his arm to escort her inside.  “I hope Mrs. Potts prepared something good for dinner.”

        Gwain and Merrick nodded enthusiastically as they stepped in line behind the spinner and his son.  “You boys are in for a treat,” Merrick bellowed cheerily, his stomach already growling.  “There’s no finer cook in the entire kingdom.”

        Rumpelstiltskin clasped Baelfire’s hand tightly in his left and began to follow the princess through the entryway, his heart in his throat.  He kept his lips firmly sealed, too nervous to answer the knight.  The entryway nearly stole his breath as he stepped inside, never having seen such rich appointments.  And where would he have seen such splendor, he asked himself.  Ornate tables lined the walls holding beautiful vases filled with the freshest of flowers from the palace gardens, gilt framed mirrors and rich tapestries lined the walls and the marble floor shone with a polished shine.  It wasn’t just the entryway which had him dazzled, he found.  Each and every corridor he passed through was the same, some decorated the same as the entryway, some resplendent with brightly shining suits of armor.  There was even one – which Gwain informed him led to the armory – where the walls were adorned with ancient weapons from days long past.

        The spinner fought to breathe as the doors to the Great Hall opened before him.  Belle glanced at him over her shoulder as they stepped onto the long carpeted runner in a rich blue, to assure herself that he was well.  He stood a little straighter, held his chin a bit higher as he remembered her words.  He didn’t want to disappoint her by appearing to be the cowardly peasant he believed himself to be.  He kept his eyes straight ahead of him, looking neither left nor right at the members of the court who filled the room.  He didn’t have to worry about them, however, as the king made a swift motion of his be-ringed hand and a small blast of a bugle dismissed the court, leaving the princess and her entourage to greet her family in relative privacy.

        “My darling girl!” King Maurice boomed, hurrying from the dais where his throne sat to embrace his daughter.  “Oh how I’ve missed you, Belle.  You were gone far too long.”

        “Papa!” she murmured, burying her face against his big barrel chest.  “I missed you too.”  Two pairs of identical cerulean eyes shone with tears as he let her go in order to look her over.

        Rumpelstiltskin watched another man descend the dais and butt his way between the princess and her father.  His eyes narrowed as the breath caught in his chest, not recognizing the burning in his gut as jealousy as the man embraced his mistress.  He was further distressed as the man lifted her into his arms and twirled her about.

        Belle squealed and slapped her brother on his shoulder.  “Beast!” she giggled.  “I’ve been on the road for weeks, Luc.  I didn’t come all this way to be manhandled by the likes of you,” she admonished lightly, her eyes sparkling as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

        “Pfft!” he scoffed, setting her down gently.  “You’re not allowed to leave again for so long, sister dear.  It was a dreadful bore with you away.”

        Her sister in law was next to greet her, hugging her tightly.  “Don’t listen to him, Belle.  He had plenty to occupy his time,” Lyssa laughed.

        Belle sighed in feigned exasperation.  “Ah, yes, but he does enjoy being melodramatic, doesn’t he?”

        Rumpelstiltskin felt the tension drain out of him as he realized the man was Belle’s brother.  He should have guessed sooner.  The prince had the same dark chestnut hair – a lock of which fell rakishly over his brow – and the same startlingly blue eyes as his father and sister.  But whereas Belle was petite, Lucern had taken after his father, topping out at over six feet and built like a brick wall.

        The king eyed each of her knights with a calm air of superiority as they stood at attention.  “Gentlemen, you have my undying gratitude for seeing my daughter safely home.  Tomorrow we will feast and properly welcome you all home.  Dismissed!”

        “You must be famished, Belle,” Lyssa said, her warm smile never faltering.  “I will send someone to the kitchens for a light repast until dinner is served.”

        “And tea!”

        “Of course.”

        “Oh, I’ve missed a good cup of tea.  It’s tragically difficult to find a decent cup on the road,” the princess complained.

        Gaston smirked at his friends, his gaze swinging between the twins.  “Oh, I don’t know, Belle … there are quite a few interesting things to be found in one’s travels.”

        Belle gnashed her teeth together as her eyes flashed at him in warning.  It was too late however as her brother’s gaze flickered to the spinner and his son. 

        He moved away from her, his eyes alight with curiosity as he came to stand before Rumpelstiltskin.  “And who might this be?” he asked in a low tone as he looked the man over. 

        Belle groaned as she watched Rumpelstiltskin’s cheeks flame with color.  She hurried to place herself protectively in front of her servant, meeting Lucern’s gaze head on.  “This is my new servant, Rumpelstiltskin, and his son, Baelfire … my new ward.” 

        “I beg your pardon?” he asked, shock and disbelief coloring his tone.  “Did you say ‘ward’?”

        “I didn’t stutter, Luc.  You heard me well enough,” she said defensively. 

        Her father laid a restraining hand on his son’s shoulder, forestalling the argument he knew was seconds away.  “A ‘ward’, you say?  How very charitable of you, daughter.  And might I ask why you chose this young lad when he has family of his own?”

        “She bought him,” Gaston mumbled under his breath as he leaned in to Lucern’s side.

        “She what!” boomed from both the king and prince.

        “Gaston!”

        The knight grinned unrepentantly and Thorrin looked as if he wished the floor would open up and swallow him.  What was worse, Baelfire huddled next to his father, hiding his face in Rumpelstiltskin’s cloak and the spinner had lowered his head meekly in shame. 

        Lucern braced his hands on his hips and tossed his head back.  It looked as if he were counting to ten … or maybe twenty … as he sought patience to deal with this new information.  “Explain yourself please.”

        Belle glared at the lot of them before she turned to Thorrin.  “Take Rum and Bae to the kitchens and see that they have some dinner.  When you’ve seen to that, have Mrs. Littleton prepare the room next to mine for their use.  And a bath, I think.  I want them to be comfortable.”  She nodded reassuringly to her new servant.  “I’ll be along shortly.”  She dropped to one knee and took Baelfire’s hand in hers.  “Go along with Thorrin, sweetling.  I’ll see you in a bit ok?  Don’t be frightened.”

        Baelfire wrapped his arms about her neck and buried his face in her hair.  “You promise?”

        “I promise, my sweet boy.  I’ll even fetch a book from the library and read you a story before bed,” she said softly.

        He brightened considerably and left with the squire and his father.  Belle met Rumpelstiltskin’s gaze briefly before they were led away, seeing the mix of fear and shame in his eyes.  It was with no small amount of ire that she rose to her feet and turned on her brother … and kicked him in the shin.  His yowl of pain from her pointy little half boots made her feel somewhat better.

        “Hellfire and damnation!” he cried, limping to the brown leather sofa next to the hearth and rubbing at the injury.  “What the hell was that for?”

        Gaston hurried over to one of the chairs in the small sitting area and dropped wearily into it before she could vent her wrath upon him as well.  Belle held her tongue as a servant entered with a tea service and set it upon the coffee table.  Her father sat down next to Lucern and poured the fragrant brew into four cups.

        “That, brother dear, was for making my servant and my ward uncomfortable.”  She glared at him through narrowed eyes.  “You and your temper.”

        “Look who’s talking!” he brother grumbled.

        She took the cup her father had prepared for her and sat in the only remaining chair, sighing happily as she sipped.  Maurice looked between his daughter and Gaston with a raised brow.  “Would either of you like to explain what’s going on here?”

        Gaston smirked.  “She won the spinner in a card game.”

        Belle barely refrained from dumping her tea in the knight’s lap.

        Lucern blinked owlishly at her.

        The king spluttered as he nearly choked on his tea.  “I beg your pardon?” he coughed out.

        Gaston winked at the princess.  “Don’t get your petticoats in a twist, Bluebelle.  They were going to find out sooner or later.”

        “Jackass,” she hissed over the rim of her cup before turning her vibrant gaze back to her family.  She quickly told them of the tale Marie had shared with them of the spinner and his wife and how horribly the woman treated him.  “I was only trying to teach the woman a lesson, papa.  I wanted to hurt her where I knew it would cause the most damage … her ego.  I never really expected her to bet her own husband, but when she did I couldn’t let the opportunity pass to help him if I could.”

        Maurice reached out to clasp her hand.  “You always did have a kind heart, daughter.”

        Lucern wasn’t so easily swayed.  “And the boy?”

        “I couldn’t separate the spinner from his son.  That child is his whole world,” she explained.  “After I saw how devastated he was at the thought of having to leave Bae behind, I offered to buy the boy outright.”

        “What kind of woman sells her own child?” Maurice asked in a low tone, his moist gaze looking between his own children with love and compassion.  He couldn’t bear the thought of losing one of his own.

        “She was truly horrible, papa.”

        “Did you have her sign a contract?” Lucern asked, settling against the back of the sofa as he relaxed and sipped his tea.  “I _know_ you drew one up.”

        Maurice beamed at her as she nodded.  “Of course.  Papa taught us well, after all.”  The king was unconventional and shrewd, believing Belle should learn at her brother’s side how to handle business and become a strong leader. Just because she was a woman, he didn’t value her any less.

        “I knew I should have gone with you to Arendelle,” the prince muttered.  “Then perhaps I could have kept you from bringing home strays.”

        Gaston made a choking sound and swiped a hand beneath his chin several times to warn Lucern off, but the prince paid him no heed and was left facing his very irate sister as she rose to her feet.  “That’s quite enough from you,” she hissed.  “Rumpel and Bae are not a couple of strays, Luc.  Lowborn, they may be, but they are deserving of our compassion and respect and I will not have you speak out against them.  Rum is indentured to me for five years, so you’d better get used to it.”

        Maurice interrupted before she could fully vent her ire.  “Be easy, daughter.  No one is going to send them away.  If you’re certain you want this man as your servant and his son as your ward, so be it.”  He rose from the sofa and embraced her.  “Your brother, I’m sure, is simply concerned for you.”

        “Rumpel is a good man, papa.  He just needs a new environment to flourish in.  And Bae needs to be able to grow up with every resource available to him.”  Her entire face relaxed into a warm smile.  “He’s such a wonderful little boy.  I’m sure you’ll see it for yourself soon enough.”

        Maurice dropped a kiss to his daughter’s brow.  “I’m sure we will, sweetheart.  You are an amazing judge of character.”

        Lucern sighed as their dinner was announced and the king offered his arm to Belle to lead her to the dining room.  He glanced at Gaston who shrugged.  His sister was one of the most kind-hearted people he’d ever met.  He just hoped her charity and compassion didn’t come back to haunt her.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Eat up, lad!  You’re entirely too skinny and poor,” Mrs. Potts admonished as she set another piece of blueberry pie in front of Rumpelstiltskin.

        “I couldn’t possibly, madam!” he shrieked in alarm.  The trestle table he sat at in the cavernous kitchen was laden with all manner of food and the woman was steadily trying to get him to eat it all.  Baelfire’s little belly was already distended as he tucked into the treacle tart she’d served him.  He moaned happily, his face covered in bits of the sticky dessert.

        “You can and you will,” she said, talking over his objections.  “Thorrin said the mistress wanted to put some meat on those old bones and by the gods that’s exactly what we shall do.”

        The spinner watched anxiously as she skipped away to see to her duties, leaving them sitting there with no choice but to obey.  He felt sick as he looked down at the pie.  He’d never eaten so much in one sitting before.  He was lucky if he’d ever eaten this much in a week.  He and Bae had already had the pleasure of the most succulent meats – lamb, boar, pheasant and wild turkey – dishes of sweet buttered peas, spicy greens and root vegetables, there had even been a bowl of the finest lamb stew he’d ever tasted.  But he had to admit, the yeasty rolls with honeyed butter had been of his favorites.  Now another piece of the woman’s delicious blueberry pie with sweet clotted cream was stretching it a bit far.

        At Rumpelstiltskin’s look of horror and the way his adam’s apple bobbed, Thorrin took pity on the man and pulled the plate towards himself to spare him.  He chuckled heartily.  “Don’t let Mrs. Potts get to you, Rum.  She’s like that with all of us.  If she had her way, we’d all be lounging in front of the hearth the size of a plump chimera.”

        Baelfire gripped his tankard of frothy milk in both hands and drank deeply, leaving a little milk mustache behind as he patted his belly.  “That was the bestest food ever, huh, papa?”

        “Indeed, son,” Rumpelstiltskin agreed with a smile.  He now felt as if he could sleep for a week, but he knew he would have to see to his son and then to the princess’s needs before he was allowed to find his own bed.  If he were allowed to stay, he thought worriedly.  What if the prince decided that he wasn’t welcome there?  Contract or no, he was sure the man could override the princess’s wishes.

        Finally, the squire pushed himself to his feet with a groan and beckoned them to follow.  “Mrs. Potts surely makes the best food in all the land.  I hadn’t realized how I’d missed it while we were away.”

        Rumpelstiltskin merely nodded as he forced himself to keep up with the man’s long stride.  They were led down so many corridors, he despaired of ever learning his way.  His mouth gaped as he was led through another set of doors and through an archway where the squire began removing his clothes. 

        “Well, come on then … You can’t very well bathe in those rags,” Thorrin teased.  “You too, young master,” he nodded to Baelfire.

        The spinner squawked and shook his head firmly as a young girl stepped out of the main chamber and wrinkled her nose at his tattered cloak and tunic.  “More like they’re to be burned,” she said with a healthy measure of disgust.  “Where’d you find this one, Thor?”

        “Frontlands,” the man said, slipping into a thin white robe and leaning against the archway while he waited for the spinner and his son to hurry along with changing.  “Vasha, this is Rumpelstiltskin, by the way … and his son Baelfire.”

        “Pleasure,” she drawled.  “Well come along, then.”

        “S-She –“ Rumpelstiltskin sputtered.

        “Vasha is one of the bath attendants.  The princess wants you both thoroughly scrubbed and deloused.  No offense.”

        “None taken,” he grumbled.  “But I’m sure Bae and I can manage on our own.”

        Thorrin chuckled.  “Not the way it works here, spinner.  The baths here are a place of relaxation, of … pleasure.”  He laughed again as he noticed how Rumpelstiltskin’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  “Don’t worry, it’s nothing like those in the east where … well I’m sure you know.  I don’t want to confuse the young master,” he said, ruffling Bae’s unruly curls.  “There are steam rooms, cool water baths, hot water baths, a masseuse on duty at all hours and a bevy of beautiful maidens to scrub us clean.  The prince believes in rewarding his servants for their faithful service.”

        Rumpelstiltskin balked as his boy was led into a separate chamber reserved for the children who dwelt in the palace, but the squire assured him Baelfire would be fine.  He averted his eyes away from the three young attendants who led him and Thorrin into a large bathing pool of clear clean water after discarding his robe.  He blushed ten shades of purple, causing them to giggle as they attacked his skin with a myriad of soaps and scrubbing sponges.

        “What’s wrong, Rum?” Thorrin asked, grinning at his obvious discomfort.

        “I’ve never been bathed before … er … by … um … “ He took a deep breath and forced some semblance of sense back into his rational brain.  “I’ve never been bathed before by naked girls young enough to be my daughters.”

        Vasha chortled in amusement as she aggressively tackled his long shaggy hair with a handful of soft soap.  “Don’t be shy, darling.  Most of us who attend the bath are widows who have no desire to remarry.  We’re here of our own accord and enjoy our duties.  No one is forcing us to do anything we don’t wish.”

        By the time the women had finished with him and he was clad in a long white sleeping tunic and calf-length breeches, he would swear he’d wear a blush to the end of his days.  Bae yawned widely as he followed his father and Thorrin along more corridors to the upper floor of the castle where the princess’s chambers were located.  The room they were led into, was large and spacious – their cottage could have easily fit inside it … twice – and the spinner thought for sure a mistake had been made.

        There was a large bed which dominated the room draped in a duvet of crimson and gold, a smaller bed in a large alcove which would be perfect for Baelfire with a small chest at the end of it to store his toys and a shelf already filled with books.  There was even a little wardrobe for his clothes.  The main chamber had its own hearth and a comfortable array of furniture to rest by the fire when he wasn’t attending his duties.  A dresser and mirror stood against one wall for his use, though he had little to put in it.  His feet sank into the thick Agrabahan carpet as he plodded into the room, his eyes drawn to the far corner where his spinning wheel had been placed, a large basket full of fine wool at its side.

        “This … this room can’t possibly be mine,” he murmured in astonishment.  “I couldn’t –“

        “Her highness insisted you have this room.  It’s where her last two servants resided before they left Avonlea to marry.”

        Baelfire bounded onto the small bed he’d chosen for himself, flinging back onto the pillows with a moan of contentment.  Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t hold back a happy chuckle at his son’s obvious pleasure.

        “Alright, well if you don’t mind, I will seek out my own bed.  See you two tomorrow,” the squire said, bidding them goodnight.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s sandals made no noise on the soft carpet as he moved to sit beside Baelfire on the little bed.  “You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you, son?”

        “The best day, papa.  Are we really going to live here?”

        “It seems so, Bae.”

        Bae held up his little arms for a hug, wrapping them tightly around his father’s neck.  “I like it here, and I really like Lady Belle.  She’s not mean like mama.”

        “Bae,” he groaned, dropping a fierce kiss to the boy’s brow as his eyes prickled with unshed tears.  “You shouldn’t talk about your mama like that, son.”  Despite how angry he was at his former wife, he didn’t want their son to grow up to hate her.

        “She doesn’t want us anymore,” Bae said sadly, sniffing dolefully.

        He pulled his son onto his lap and cradled him to his chest, his fingers stroking over his dark hair.  “She loves you, Baelfire, even though she had a hard time showing it.  Letting you go had to be hard for her, but she wanted you to have your best chance.  She felt Lady Belle was our best hope for a happy future.”

        The boy shook his head adamantly.  “No, papa, she didn’t want us,” he said, his lower lip trembling.  “But it doesn’t matter as long as I have you.”

        “Oh, Bae …”  He rocked his son gently, tightly clenching his eyes to keep a wash of angry tears from spilling over his lashes.  In that moment of his son’s despair, he felt as if he had never loathed Milah more.  How could she have given up on their precious son?  “It’s going to be alright, son, I promise.”

        Rumpelstiltskin held him until his little body went limp and his soft snores echoed through the chamber which would now be their home.  He covered him with the soft down blanket and tucked it around him, remaining on the edge of the bed to watch over him.  His head jerked up as a soft knock sounded at the door joining his room to that of his mistress and he hurried to open it for her.

        “I’m so sorry I was delayed,” she asked, coming into the room and searching for her young ward.  “Oh … he’s already asleep.”

        “Aye, m’lady –“

        “Belle,” she corrected.

        “Belle.  He was exhausted from the trip, I’m afraid.  Not to mention all the food he devoured and the warm bath he had,” he said with a smile.

        She peered up at him from beneath her lashes, quite happy to see him relaxed for once.  “And I trust you enjoyed it as well?”  He nodded, his eyes following her as she wandered further into the room and set the book down on the coffee table near the hearth.  “Your room?  It’s satisfactory?”

        He answered her query with one of his own.  “Are you certain this room was meant for us?  It’s far too fine for the likes of –“

        Belle whirled about and pressed her fingertips to his lips, ignoring the widening of his eyes at her unexpected boldness.  “I want you close … both of you,” she amended.  “You are mine for the time being and I want to make sure you are comfortable.  I want you to be happy, Rumpel.”  She released him as his cheeks flushed and his eyes lowered, deciding to chance the subject.  “Don’t put down on yourself.  I won’t stand for it.”

        He bowed to her in acquiescence.  “As you wish, highness.”

        “Sooner or later, I _will_ break you of this propensity you have towards my title.  It’s all well and good to observe society’s dictates towards my father and brother, but not between us,” she scolded gently.  “I want you to call me Belle.”

        Her maid called out to her before he could answer.  “Highness, your bath is ready.”

        Belle cursed silently, not wanting to part from him so soon, but seeing she had no choice.  “Coming, Gerta,” she called over her shoulder so her voice would carry through the open door.  She smiled up at her servant, sighing softly as she gazed into his warm sable eyes.  “I’ll see you in the morning, Rum.  I’ll expect tea at seven.  Try to get some rest, please, for we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

         “Goodnight … Belle,” he said, watching her as she turned to leave.  As the door closed behind her, it felt as if all the light had been sucked from the room, leaving him bereft with only his wayward thoughts to keep him company.  The bed held no appeal for him, and in only a few steps, he sat himself down at the spinning wheel to chase away his unease, losing himself in the turn of the wheel.

        On the other side of the closed door, Belle leaned against the cool wood, a wistful smile upon her lips.  “Goodnight, my sweet spinner.  Pleasant dreams.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guh!!! I just want to hug them both!! Things seem to be progressing quite nicely for our little darlings. Next chapter, Belle takes Rumpel and Bae shopping. Lord knows they need some new clothes :D it will be fun, I promise!! Thank you all so much for reading and leaving your kind comments. Love to you all!!


	6. Chapter 6

        “Rumpelstiltskin!  Up with you now.  We have duties to attend.”

        The spinner came awake with a little whimper of alarm, sitting bolt upright in bed to stare wide-eyed at the no nonsense maid hovering beside his bed.  It took him a moment to remember where he was before it all came back to him.  His gaze swung to the left, his eyes searching through the dim light of dawn barely peeking in through the windows to find his son undisturbed by the woman’s intrusion.  Hurriedly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his staff, biting back a groan as his ankle protested.

        “I am Bethany, by the way.  I serve the princess from dawn until just before the evening meal when Gerta assumes her duties.  I will be helping you get your bearings this morning, but you’d best catch on quick.  Her highness will not appreciate you getting lost in the palace.” 

        Rumpelstiltskin reached for some of the clothes he’d unpacked the night before and disappeared behind the screen to change, thankful the woman kept her voice down so as not to wake his son.  He knew Baelfire would probably sleep for several hours yet, and by then he’d be back to tend him.  He draped his borrowed sleeping attire over the screen and pulled on his own worn clothing, grimacing at the wrinkles in his homespun tunic.  He dragged a comb through his shaggy hair, wincing as the teeth snagged in more than one tangle.  Finally, he was ready to begin his duties.

        The woman clucked her tongue when she got a good look at him.  “Where in all the realms did she find you, I wonder.  Poorest waif I’ve seen in ages,” she said reproachfully as she led him from the room towards the kitchens.  “Not to worry, dear.  I’m sure we’ll get you fattened up in no time.”

        Rumpelstiltskin kept his head lowered in a subservient manner, refusing to make eye contact with the other servants they met along the way, concentrating more on his surroundings and mapping a path to their destination.  It might take a few trips for him to learn his way, but he was determined to memorize the route so he could do the task without help from others. 

        Mrs. Potts seized his arm the moment he stepped into the kitchen and sat him down at the trestle table.  “And where is that fine boy of yours this morning, Rumpelstiltskin?  Still abed?”

        “Y-Yes, ma’am,” he answered, his stomach rumbling loudly as she set a plate of eggs, sausage, smothered potatoes with onions and herbs and hot raspberry scones before him.

        “Eat up, lad,” she commanded before moving off to serve the other servants who ambled in.

        Bethany tucked into her own food.  “Don’t worry, we have time,” she assured him when he glanced between his plate and the door.  “Princess Belle usually requires tea and scones upon waking.  Your first duty of the day is to fetch her tray.  While it’s being prepared, you shall break your own fast.  Her schedule changes somewhat day to day, so she will have to list your other duties.  She’s a lovely mistress though.”

        He wasted no time inhaling his breakfast, and though he rushed – nearly scalding his tongue on the flavorful cup of tea laced with honey and lemon – Mrs. Potts still had his ladyship’s tea tray ready when he’d finished.  As he balanced the tray on his left arm, the kindly cook slipped several scones – wrapped in a piece of cloth – into his pocket.  “For your boy,” she said with a warm smile.

        Rumpelstiltskin beamed at her shyly, his cheeks flushed with pleasure.  He wasn’t used to others caring for his young son and the sentiment warmed his heart.  He followed Bethany back to the princess’s chamber, his eyes widening as she led him into the room.  It was done in a multitude of creams and blues, more than fitting for his mistress.  It had a calming effect on him.  Bethany moved about the dim room, lighting the lamps and stoking the fire as he set the tray down carefully on the coffee table for want of a better place to put it.

        He stood for a moment in awe, taking in the comfortable furniture spread around the hearth, the thick plush rugs covering the marble floors, and the deep cherry wood of her dresser, vanity and wardrobe.  A screen was off to one corner which concealed a claw-foot tub as well as a washbasin on a stand.  He blinked in astonishment at the sheer number of books which seemed to be bursting from the shelves covering an entire wall.  And to think she’d mentioned there was a library somewhere in the palace.  He wondered if maybe this was it and she had simply moved into it.  An archway, with ornate glass doors led out onto a small terrace.  He could see the plant life and a little padded bench, and he could easily envision her sitting there with the sunlight shining on her lovely hair as she read.

        “You might want to look in on master Baelfire while I try to rouse her highness,” Bethany whispered, shooing him towards the door which led to his own chamber.  “Sometimes, it takes quite a bit to get her out of bed.”

        He didn’t ask questions, seizing the opportunity to check in on the lad.  Baelfire was sitting up in the middle of his bed, his arms clasped around his upraised knees, his eyes watery and his lower lip trembling.  “Oh, Bae, what is it son?” the spinner asked, hurrying to the lad’s side.

        Baelfire held his arms up to his father, who quickly gathered him into his embrace.  “Where w-were you, p-papa?  I w-woke up and I couldn’t f-find you,” he sniffed, burrowing against Rumpelstiltskin’s chest.

        “I had to see to the princess’s morning tea, son.  I’m so sorry,” he said softly, stroking his long fingers through Bae’s mass of unruly dark curls.  “My brave boy,” he cooed.  “You did the right thing and stayed here in our chamber instead of losing yourself in the corridors … such a smart lad.”

        His son beamed at him for the praise and puffed out his little chest.  “I knew you would come back.  You always take care of me, papa.”

        “Always, my boy, always.”  He reached into his pocket for the nibbles hidden within, setting them in Bae’s little hands.  “Mrs. Potts sent you a treat in case you’re hungry.  Why don’t you take them over by the hearth while I peek in on our mistress, yeah?”

        He could hear Belle grumbling at her maid as he approached the door.  “No, I don’t want breakfast … sleep.”

        “Highness, there’s a feast to prepare for tonight … a gown to be selected … and for the love of the gods, we really must outfit your new servant and get him out of those rags!” Bethany said as she began brushing the wrinkles from the day gown she’d selected for her lady to wear that day.

        Belle rolled over with a groan and pulled the pillow over her head.  “I don’t know why it is that my father thinks we must feast every time one of us returns from a trip.  It’s tedious,” she complained.  She scowled blackly at her maid as the pillow was pulled off of her head.

        “Because he loves you, dear,” she said simply.  “I doesn’t hurt you to leave the library and play nice before the court.”

        She opted to change the subject.  “Where’s Bae?  Is he awake yet?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes.

        “He is, m’lady,” Rumpelstiltskin said softly as he came to stand beside the bed with her dressing robe, holding it out to her so she could slip into it.  He averted his eyes as she threw back her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.  He made sure not to allow his fingers to linger overlong as the silk wrapped about her petite frame.

        Belle yawned and went to sit in her chair by the fire.  “Good morning, Rumpel.  Come,” she beckoned to him, “sit and have a cup of tea with me.”

        Bethany arched a brow in their direction, but otherwise held her tongue.  She nodded in approval, however, when the man refused to sit on the sofa and instead dropped to his knees next to the coffee table, busying himself with preparing Belle’s cup and then buttering a scone for her.

        “Beth, please ask Bae to come in and join us, would you?” she asked, taking a sip of the heavenly brew with a sigh of contentment.  Her eyes sparkled as she addressed her servant next.  “I trust you slept well?”

        Rumpelstiltskin nodded, pouring tea into a second cup for himself and another for Baelfire as the boy bounded into the room and climbed up onto the sofa.  All hint of tears had vanished from his eyes now that he knew his papa was close by.  “I did,” he said shyly.

        “Wonderful,” she chirped, wiping a bit of butter off her fingers as she smiled at him.  “There is much for us to do today, and I’m glad that you’re rested.”

        “Papa, may I have some honey in my tea?” Bae asked, glancing at the princess to see if it were all right.

        “I like honey in my tea, too, darling.”  She set her cup down on its fine china saucer and looked at them both.  “Now … we will not be going down to breakfast this morning in the formal dining room as I usually do.  We’ll be leaving shortly for the village.”

        Bae’s eyes lit with excitement.  “Really?  What will we do there, m’lady?”

        “We’re going shopping!” she exclaimed.  Now that she was awake, she was anxious to get under way.  She reached over and fingered the sleeve of his sleeping shirt.  “We’re going to visit the tailor and see about outfitting you and your father with a new wardrobe.  Would you like that?”

        “Oh, yes, ma’am!”

        Rumpelstiltskin frowned.  “Belle,” he whispered anxiously, “you’ve already done so much for us … you don’t … I mean …”

        Belle reached out and laid her hand upon his shoulder in an effort to calm him.  “I do, Rumpel.  There is nothing wrong with the clothes you brought with you, but I can’t have you and Baelfire dressing like peasants if you’re to accompany me about the palace … especially in front of the court.”  She cursed her tactless tongue as he flushed bright crimson and lowered his gaze.  “What I’m trying to say is that the two of you must dress befitting your new stations.  I won’t have the courtiers and nobles looking down upon you.  Do you understand?”

        Bethany _humphed_ as she flitted about the room tidying up.  She didn’t care for the members of the court any more than her mistress did.  “That lot is naught but a bunch of vipers if you ask me.”

        “Beth, I will need to assign Bae a permanent guard.  Do you think Gaston would mind if I stole Thorrin away from him?” she asked, a mischievous gleam in her eye.  It would serve him right if she reassigned the squire in retaliation for Gaston’s big fat mouth the previous evening.

        “What did the lummox do to spark your ire this time?”

        “Oh, the usual,” Belle said with a dismissive wave of her hand.  “He thought it would be funny to tattle on me before I was able to tell Lucern the whole story of how I acquired Rumpel.  He’s such a child sometimes.”

        Bae’s large brown eyes came to rest on her worriedly.  “Did you get in trouble with your papa and brother?”

        Belle ruffled his curls and smiled gently.  “Of course not, darling.  I rarely do.”

        “They weren’t angry?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, his chest tightening at the thought of being sent away from her.  The longer he was with her, the more he dreaded the thought of having to return to his former life.

        “No, Luc was a bit irritated, but no more than usual.  Thankfully, the men in my family know I don’t do things like that often or without thinking it through.  After they read through the contract, they were more than satisfied with our arrangement.”

        The spinner released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and nodded.  “I’ll try not to disappoint you … or them.”

        Her gaze softened as it came to settle on him.  “Oh, Rum, I doubt seriously that you could ever disappoint me.” 

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “But … but …”  Gaston looked at Belle, his face screwed up in a mixture of disgruntlement and the desire to say no.  “Why must it be _my_ squire?” he whined.

        Belle smiled sweetly and batted her lashes – a most uncharacteristic move on her part, as she usually didn’t stoop to such tactics – as she patted his cheek.  “Because Bae is already accustomed to Thorrin and I wish it,” she answered simply.

        “Belle … the lad has nearly finished his training, and –“

        “Then I shall simply ask Lucern to move up his appointment to knighthood.  That suits even better,” she said gleefully as she watched the boy run the gauntlet on the training field.  “I like the idea of Bae having his own knight to watch over him.  Oh, Gaz, you were going to lose him eventually when he was knighted … what’s a few months, give or take.”

        He cast his long-suffering gaze down at her as he wiped his forearm over his sweat-soaked brow, his long sword clasped tightly in his other hand.  “You’re doing this to spite me, aren’t you?  Belle I was just teasing last night.  I knew Lucern wouldn’t punish you.”

        “This is not about last night, darling.”  She slipped her gloved hand in the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her over to a shaded area to sit down on a bench.  “Seriously, I don’t want to hire a nanny for Baelfire.”  Her eyes sought out her servant and his son where they stood on the sidelines watching the training field with several of her knights.  “I want to raise him myself.”

        “You’re getting too attached, Belle,” he warned, dropping down on his haunches at her feet and following her gaze.

        “How can I not, Gaz?  He needs me …” Her voice lowered so only her friend could hear.  “They both do.  And I’ll thank you to keep that bit of information to yourself.”  She sighed.  “You don’t have to worry about Rumpel, though; he doesn’t see me in that way.”

        Gaston snorted.  “Is he blind as well as lame?”  He ducked as she reached out to swat the back of his head.  “Alright!  There’s no need for violence, Bluebelle!”

        “Then mind your tongue, rogue!” she hissed back.  “Now, will you allow me to assign Thorrin to Baelfire or not?”

        He arched a brow as she moved back to their previous subject.  “Fine.  I suppose he should be rewarded for services rendered.  I’ll talk to Luc about it.”

        She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.  “Thank you, Gaz.”  She rose from her seat and beckoned for Rumpelstiltskin to join her, Bae tagging along behind him.  “Oh, and I’ll need Merrick, I think, to accompany us to town.”

        “Why?  You just got home.”

        “I have some shopping to do.  I can’t have my boys show up to dinner looking less than their best.”

        Gaston rolled his eyes as he regained his feet and set about to see to her wishes with only one small difference.  “Merrick’s busy.  I’ll accompany you and your little ‘family’ into town.  I’m due for some entertainment.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Gaston groaned as he chased after his young charge.  He was supposed to be watching over them all, but every time he took his eyes off of the spinner’s son, the lad seemed to disappear as if by magic.  Rumpelstiltskin remained at Belle’s side, never far from her elbow as she moved along the cobbled sidewalks greeting the townsfolk stopping her to say how glad they were that she’d returned to Avonlea.  It didn’t hurt that she had a sack full of coins that she’d press into their hands with a gentle smile. They’d had to abandon the carriage several blocks over when the press of the crowd had hindered their progress.  Belle had a true love for her people, and she didn’t care if they delayed her business.  She always had time for them.

        The knight reached out and grabbed the lad by the scruff of his neck and pulled him to a halt.  “Young master, you’ve got to slow down!  We must wait for the princess.”

        “But I’m hungry,” Bae whined dolefully as he turned his soulful brown eyes up at Gaston.

        The man gaped at him.  “You just had two lamb kabobs and some of those sweet potatoes sticks you favor.  How could you possibly be hungry?”

        “Dunno,” he shrugged.  “Just am.  Can we get some custard?”

        He scooped the boy up and settled him on his shoulder before he could run off again.  “How about we get custard if you behave yourself at the tailor shop.”

        “No, I want some now.  Please?”

        “After,” the knight insisted.

        “But Princess Belle says I’m too thin and I need to eat as often as possible to grow big and strong and …”

        “Lad, you’re trying my patience,” he said, arching a brow at the boy.

        “I promise to be extra good when I try on my new clothes at the tailor’s … please?” Bae promised, his lower lip trembling.

        Gaston groaned again, glancing between the princess, the boy and the custard stand only a few yards away.  He had a soft spot for children and his young charge was no exception.  “Fine,” he sighed in defeat.  “Let’s get you a custard.”

        Belle felt as if she hadn’t smiled this much in years.  Her happiness was like a warm ball of sunshine centered in her chest around her heart.  She found she enjoyed having Rumpelstiltskin at her side as she walked the streets of the town.  She hoped he would outgrow his nervousness soon and allow himself to relax a bit.  Several times since they’d left the carriage, she’d had to reach out and rest a comforting hand on his arm to calm him.  He was so jittery, it made her worry for him.  He was trying so hard to be attentive to her and watch over Baelfire at the same time.

        “Gaz,” she called to her friend, smiling when she noticed the spoon sticking out of his mouth and a trace of chocolate custard at his lips.  “We’re going in, dear.  Don’t be too long.”

        “Shouldn’t we wait?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, leaning heavily on his staff.

        “No, Gaston will be along shortly.  Let them enjoy their treat, hm?” she replied softly, ushering him into the shop.  She couldn’t help but notice the small wince of pain which tightened the lines around his mouth as he put too much weight on his bad ankle.  “Are you alright?  Do you need to rest a moment?”

        “I’m fine,” he bit out, his cheeks turning a brilliant pink as he avoided her gaze.  He wouldn’t let the discomfort in his leg stop him from his duties.  He didn’t get a chance to say more as the shopkeeper clapped his hands in excitement and rushed out to greet the princess.

        “Your highness!” he exclaimed.  “You honor me.  I was so relieved to hear you’d returned safely from your journey.”

        Belle fought to keep from rolling her eyes at his melodramatic air and held out her hand in greeting which he promptly fawned over.  “How are you today, Mr. Rousseau?  I trust your family is well?”

        “ _Oui_ , _oui_ , highness, they are indeed,” he beamed, his gaze flickering down to Rumpelstiltskin from his great height.  “Er … and how may I assist you today?”

        Belle’s eyes sparkled as she leaned in conspiratorially.  “Actually, I have a rather large order to place for my new servant and my young ward.  Would you be able to accommodate me on such short notice?  I know how busy you are.”

        “ _Bien sûr,”_ he said, an avaricious gleam lighting his pale gray eyes.  His nose wrinkled a bit as he stared down at the state of Rumpelstiltskin’s homespun pants and tunic.  “What do you think he will require?”

        Belle followed after the proprietor, glancing quickly over her shoulder to make sure her servant followed.  “He will definitely need formal livery, preferably with all haste as there is a feast tonight that we are required to attend.  He will also need several pairs of trousers, tunics, hosiery, small clothes, cravats, waistcoats, frock coats, a warm winter jacket, coat … the usual.”

        “It is most fortunate that I keep the palace livery in stock for the royal house of Avonlea, _non_?”

        “You are a treasure, Mr. Rousseau.” She smiled coyly at him before his assistants came forward to begin with measurements. 

        “Mistress … er, Belle, are you sure this is necessary? I-I-“ the spinner protested weakly as he was led away to one of the back rooms where he’d be stripped to his small clothes and measured for his new garments.

        She followed Mr. Rousseau, pausing to run her hand over the myriad bolts of fabrics stacked haphazardly on tables and along the wall.  “Highness, shall we go with the usual fabrics, or would you care to make a different selection?”

        Belle’s eyes twinkled merrily as she removed her gloves to better feel the materials.  She could well imagine how handsome he would look in linen and wool, but he’d look so much finer in silks, leather and brocade.  She suppressed an involuntary shiver.  “Oh, I think I’d like different fabrics for Rumpel.  Servant though he may be, he will be an extension of my title.  I don’t want him going about in rags.”

        “I would never –“

        “Calm yourself, my good man.  I meant no offense, but you see what he was before.  I can’t have him going about in homespun, now can I?”

        “I see your point,” the man agreed.

        Belle waved to Gaston as he came in, Baelfire at his side.  “I will need the same for little Bae, Mr. Rousseau.”

        “Of course, Highness.”  He called to two more of his assistants and had them lead the boy to another chamber.  Gaston followed reluctantly, fatigued after chasing the boy so much.  “Would you care to see what I have on hand in the meantime?  Perhaps you’ll find something ready made to take with you today and then I can have the rest of your order delivered as it’s made available.”

        As she made her selections, Rumpelstiltskin was left standing on a platform in his small clothes and a blush as he was measured from top to toe by two of Mr. Rousseau’s seamstresses and an apprentice.  Even his boots and staff had been taken from him.  He just prayed he’d get them back.  When the measurements were done, another bevy of assistants carried in pile after pile of material and fabrics finer than he’d ever seen.  He would have been fine with that, biting his tongue to quell his discomfort, if the princess hadn’t followed them in to approve the selections.

        He lowered his gaze as he raised his arms to cover his chest, missing the appreciative look in her azure eyes as they swept over his wiry frame.  She sucked in a sharp breath as she moved closer, but Mr. Rousseau interrupted whatever she’d been about to say as he draped a swath of crimson silk over Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder and waited for her opinion.

        “Yes … yes, I do like that color.  Buttons, I think, Mr. Rousseau instead of laces,” she added.  She also choose a lovely emerald, navy, cyan, black, royal blue and sorrel brown.  That would give him a different color for every day of the week to start.  The proprietor had several pairs of soft leather pants in his size and her mouth went dry as he was laced into them and stood before her for inspection.  “Um …”

        “Princess?” the man asked, also giving his own inspection as he looked for any loose stitchery.

        It took an amazing amount of will to stop herself from grabbing for her fan as her blood caught fire.  “Oh, yes, those will do nicely.  And I want them lined so he doesn’t chafe.  I want him to be comfortable.”

        “Of course, highness.”

        Rumpelstiltskin watched her covertly from beneath his lashes as he was asked to change over and over again, wondering over her odd reaction.  He’d never seen Milah look at him with such a soft expression on her face, never seen his ex-wife’s eyes darken with anything remotely resembling desire, and therefore didn’t recognize the signs of his mistress’s obvious pleasure as she gazed upon him.  He knew he was a small man, thin and wiry, but put together adequately.  He was most uncomfortable with her seeing his scars, however; where they criss-crossed in a jagged formation from mid-calf to the top of his foot.  Yet, his princess didn’t flinch as her gaze flicked over his mangled flesh.

        Belle’s hands clenched in the skirts of her silver day gown as she bit down on her lip.  Gods, he was a fine looking man, she thought appreciatively as her eyes drifted lower to rest on his firm backside encased in the fine tooled leather.  Oh, yes, _fine_ indeed.  The proprietor left them alone for a moment to look in on Baelfire’s progress and she moved to the spinner’s side to help him into a white lawn shirt with laces at his throat.

        “T-This is too good for me, Belle.  I’m just a servant, I –“

        “You look wonderful,” she whispered, holding a black brocade waistcoat out to him.  “You’re so handsome.  It’s amazing what all that homespun was hiding.”  She fastened the clasps and then let her hands wander idly up and down the length of his arms before gripping his callused hands loosely in her own.

        He huffed a breath of disbelief and turned his head away, but she was having none of that.  She helped him down from the platform and over to the full length mirror in the corner, stepping around him and resting her chin on his shoulder.  “Look at yourself, Rumpel.  Look how handsome you are.”  He slowly lifted his head, shaking it slightly as he gazed at his reflection.  He hardly recognized himself.  “You have no idea how happy I am that you belong to me, my sweet spinner.”

        Rumpelstiltskin met her gaze in the mirror, looking for any sign of mockery in her eyes, but found none.  That realization shook him to his core.  He’d never had anyone look at him with such blatant pride on their face … never for him.  “Princess …” he murmured with the barest trace of sound to his deep voice, turning his head to the side until his face was mere inches from her own.

        “Do I really have to wear this tonight?  It’s itchy and I don’t like this thing around my neck!”

        Belle sprang away from her servant and whirled about to find her young ward standing in the doorway pulling at the little cravat about his throat.  “Oh, darling, you look so adorable.”

        Baelfire screwed his face up into a look of disgust.  “I don’t want to look adorable,” he pouted.  “I want my other clothes back and that mean man won’t give them to me.”

        Belle giggled and took his hand in hers.  “Well, let’s see if we can’t find you something less itchy, hm?  And tonight for the feast I’ll tie your cravat personally so it doesn’t choke you.  I promise.”

        Gaston came in and dropped wearily into a chair, raising his brows at Rumpelstiltskin.  “Wow, spinner, you clean up nicely.”

        “Thanks,” he mumbled, still staring at the spot where the princess had disappeared with his son.  “I tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but –“

        “Belle doesn’t listen when she knows she’s right.  If you’re going to serve her, she won’t have you gallivanting about dressed in rags.”

        “I don’t deserve –“

        “It’s for her to decide what you deserve, spinner.  Just go with it … _enjoy_ it.”  Gaston cast him a rakish grin.  “Belle is the kindest lady I’ve ever known.  Take my advice and do everyone a favor … let her in.  She won’t disappoint you.”

        “What does she want from me?” he asked in a pained whisper, still so afraid to trust his good fortune.

        “She wants your friendship,” the knight answered simply as Mr. Rousseau came back into the room to fit the spinner for his livery.  “She doesn’t have many, despite her wealth and title.  If she has chosen you, it is a rare gift not to be squandered.”  His dark eyes narrowed on him.  “Don’t break her heart.”

        “I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Have I mentioned lately how much I simply adore this prompt? Thank you Quill *hugs*. So who’s ready for the feast in next chapter? And Thorrin’s ceremony to become a knight? The feast is sure to be fun too with all of Belle’s family in attendance. Also, if I didn’t respond personally to your review or comment, PLEASE forgive me as I’ve been really swamped :D Thank you all so much for reading!!


	7. Chapter 7

 

        Thorrin tried his best not to laugh at the spinner’s frustration, but Baelfire had no such tact.  Rumpelstiltskin cast his son a desperate look before turning back to the mirror, the third cravat he’d tried to tie about his neck, wrinkled beyond repair.  He tossed it onto the bed with the others and groaned. 

        As he reached for another, Thorrin came to stand behind him, his fingers kneading at the knots in Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulders.  “Relax, Rum.  I know you’re nervous to be seen by the entire court, but it’s not going to be as bad as all that.  Here, let me show you again.”  He took the pristine white silk from his friend’s hands and carefully knotted it about the spinner’s neck.  “See, nothing to it.  Next time you should be able to do it without any problems, I think.”

        “Easy for you to say,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled.  “Belle’s going to be so displeased with me.  I should have been ready sooner and now she’s going to be late and it’s all my fault.”

        The squire flopped down next to Bae on the sofa where the boy was playing with his wooden soldiers and stretched out his long legs.  “Belle isn’t worried about being late.  We haven’t heard a peep from her room, so it’s safe to say she’s not ready yet.”

        Rumpelstiltskin glared darkly at his reflection in the full length mirror.  He’d never worn such fine garments before, even though they weren’t nearly as luxurious as those the nobles wore.  The shirt he wore was made of white silk, the material so soft against his weathered skin.  A gold brocade waistcoat with shiny buttons covered it.  His pants were a buttery soft white leather with gold buttons at the knee where his calves were encased in white hose.  The black patent leather shoes with their gold buckles pinched a bit at his toes, but considering they hadn’t been made specifically for him, he really couldn’t complain over the slight discomfort.  Thorrin had assured him the new ones which had been ordered would be more to his liking.  Now that his cravat was properly tied, the only thing which remained was the heavy frock coat of navy blue damask silk he was required to wear as part of his livery.  He hurriedly donned it and tried to find himself in the man who stared back at him from the mirror.

        “Wow, papa!” Baelfire breathed, his eyes full of wonder.  “You look so handsome.”

        “You clean up well, spinner.  The princess will be pleased,” Thorrin added.

        Rumpelstiltskin cast them both a doubtful look, wondering briefly over the state of their eyesight.  “Bae, come here son and let me have a look at you.”  The boy didn’t hesitate, laying his toys aside and rushing over to his father.  Thorrin had chosen Bae’s clothing for the evening, a fine white lawn shirt with laces at his throat, buff colored breeches, white hose and tiny black shoes and a black waistcoat over his little chest.  There was nothing to help his unruly curls, but Rumpelstiltskin ran a comb through them one more time just to be sure.  He could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes as he looked down at his son.  “You do me proud, my boy.”

        A knock at the door adjoining his suite with Belle’s startled him out of his fugue.  “Are you dressed?” she called.  “May I come in?”

        Thorrin opened the door for her with a courtly bow.  “Highness, you look lovely this evening.”

        Belle smiled warmly at the young squire.  “Oh, you’re such a charmer, Thor.  And Bae, don’t you look dashing.  Will you be my dinner companion this evening?” she asked, dipping into a curtsey for the child and making him giggle.

        “Yes, princess,” he said shyly, hugging her about her waist.

        “Very good.  Thorrin, if you will,” she nodded towards the door.  “Rumpel and I will be along shortly.”

        Rumpelstiltskin let his gaze wander appreciatively over her curves before lowering his eyes respectfully.  “Thorrin was right,” he murmured shyly.  “You are incredibly beautiful, m’lady Belle.”

        Belle smoothed her hand over the shirt of her Robin’s egg blue gown and smiled.  “Thank you, Rum,” she whispered, pleased with his compliment.  It was one she’d worn before – her favorite actually – with its wide bell skirt flowing out over her many petticoats.  It cinched her waist tightly, drawing attention to her trim figure, and the snug fitted bodice with its sweetheart neckline pushed her small breasts up.  The sleeves covered her slender arms from shoulder to elbow where they flared out into belle sleeves trimmed in ivory lace.  She held out the velvet box she had clasped in one hand.  “Would you … ah … mind helping me with this?  I sent Gerta to the Great Hall with a message that I’d be delayed before I could get her to fasten this for me.”

        He opened the box to gaze inside, his brows raising at the lovely stand of diamonds and pearls inside.  The milky pearls were nearly the same shade as her gown … a king’s ransom in jewels.  His fingers shook slightly as she held her long tresses away from her neck so he could fasten the strand about her neck, careful to keep from brushing his hands against her skin.  Still, he wasn’t able to fight the blush that rose in his face and tinted his cheeks pink.  “There you are, Belle.”

        “They belonged to my mother,” she said softly, turning to face him.  She held his gaze for a long moment, words between them left unspoken in a shared minute of compassion.  Finally, Belle seemed to come back to herself with a start.  “Oh, I have something for you, Rumpel.  I’ll be right back.”

        He fidgeted nervously while he waited for her to return, taking on last look in the mirror and smoothing a hand over his hair.  What if she didn’t like the way he looked in his livery?  She hadn’t said anything and the suspense was enough to cause his heart to stutter to a quick halt.  Thankfully, she returned before he had too much time to worry himself into a frazzle.

        Belle moved wordlessly to his side, biting her lip as she met his gaze.  In her hands was a polished ebony cane with a gold handle which she offered to him.  “I know it’s not your staff which you’re used to, but … I thought this might give you more freedom of motion during your duties …” Her face fell as she stared up into the unreadable mask which had slipped over his features.  “You don’t like it.  I’m sorry.  When I saw it at the cobbler’s shop while you were being fitted for your boots … well I saw it and thought it …”

        “Belle, stop, dearie.  I-I mean, m’lady,” he amended, biting down hard on his tongue as he let the endearment slip past his wayward lips.  “It’s wonderful.  I don’t deserve such a gift.”

        “Of course you do, Rum.  Do you really like it?  The handle is curved enough to hook over your arm when you need both of your hands free,” she said, relaxing once more now that he’d admitted to liking her gift.  “Well, what are you waiting for?  Try it out.”

        Rumpelstiltskin set the tip of the cane against the rug and balanced his weight as he took a step, appreciating the slim ebony wood as it supported him easily.  He made a circuit of the room before returning to her side, a smile blooming on his lips.  “It’s not as cumbersome as my staff, Belle.  Truly … thank you.  I haven’t … well, I’m not used to receiving gifts, so forgive me if I seemed ungrateful a moment ago.  You’ve already done so much for me and Bae, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

        “Good, because there’s no need for that.  I enjoy giving you things you need,” she whispered with false bravado as she reached up to tenderly cup his cheek.  What she really wanted to do was scream her frustration at the world for what he’d suffered for so long at the hands of his ex-wife.  His cheek warmed beneath her hand as he blushed and it was all she could do to stop herself from raising up on her toes to kiss his lips.  “You look so handsome this evening.  I will be proud to have you at my side.”

        His fingers tightened over the handle of his new cane, the knuckles whitening with the effort to force himself not to reach for her.  He had to stop this now before he did something they would both regret.  She was his mistress and there were lines he couldn’t … _wouldn’t_ … cross.  He cleared his throat and took a step back, breaking their contact to offer her his arm.  “Shall we go, mistress?”

        Belle pursed her lips in displeasure as she took his arm and allowed him to lead her out of his room.  “How many times am I going to have to ask you to call me Belle?” she huffed in exasperation.

        “At least once more,” he returned, fighting the smile which threatened to return to his mouth.  She grinned as she sighed in resignation, leading him down corridors unfamiliar to him to join the feast in the Great Hall.

 

***XOXOX***

 

 

        “Well, it’s about bloody time you arrived,” Lucern grumbled, rising from his seat at the king’s right to greet his sister with a warm embrace.  “I’m starving.”

        Belle kissed his cheek.  “Which means you’ve gone through only one tray of fruit while awaiting me, hm?” she murmured dryly, moving on to greet her father.

        “You look stunning, my girl,” he complimented as he handed her into the chair on his left. 

        She turned to her right and squeezed Baelfire’s hand reassuringly, taking note of his wide eyes and tightly compressed lips.  “Are you alright, my darling?  Don’t be afraid.”

        He leaned into her, resting his cheek against her arm.  “There’s so many people and they’re all looking at me.”

        Belle’s gaze swept the room, her eyes narrowing minutely at the courtiers and nobles milling about, taking their own seats for the evening meal.  They were indeed staring curiously at the small boy seated at the royal table.  She glanced down at her ward, her protective instincts flaring to life.  She forced a bright smile.  “No, baby, they’re looking at me and wondering how I got so lucky to have such a charming dinner companion.”

        “Really?” he asked, still unsure.

        She beckoned to her servant, who stood not a foot behind her chair.  “Your papa is here, as am I and Thorrin.  Do you really think we’d allow anyone to harm you?”

        He looked up at his father, who gave a nod of approval, and the boy seemed to relax a bit.  Confident the crisis had been averted, she turned to Rumpelstiltskin and smiled.  “Wine please, Rumpel.  And don’t be nervous.  If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

        “Yes, m’lady,” he replied, moving off to fetch one of the golden pitchers to fill her cup.

        “That cannot be the same man you dragged home, Belle,” her father commented, drawing her attention.

        She arched a brow in his direction, a teasing glint in her eye.  “I assure you it is, papa.”

        “I hardly recognized him.”

        “My Rumpel just needed a bit of polishing to see the diamond he is beneath,” she said fondly as her servant filled her goblet with sparkling white wine.  She ignored her brother who sputtered into his own cup and cut his eyes at her, a dark frown marring his brow. 

        Her sister-in-law patted him on the back and grinned at Belle.  “He’s very handsome, Belle.  I think he’s going to fit in nicely here in Avonlea.  Gaston mentioned that Rumpelstiltskin is a spinner by trade.”

        Belle nodded as footmen flooded the hall carrying in the meal.  “Yes, he is.  I haven’t seen any samples of his work yet, however.  I’m hoping he will have time to spin once things settle down.”  She glanced at her father.  “Papa, I would like to beg a favor.”

        “Oh?” he murmured distractedly as a footman ladled thin slices of roasted duck on his plate.

        “Yes.  I’d like for you to order …” she leaned over to whisper to her father so her servant wouldn’t overhear.

        The king looked startled.  “Whyever would you want that?”

        “I have my reasons,” she returned mysteriously.  “Will you order them for me?”

        He glared at the footman until he ladled an extra spoonful of rich brown gravy over his potatoes.  “I suppose, sweetheart.”

        “Thank you, papa.”  Once again, she called Rumpelstiltskin forward.  “Go on to the kitchen and grab a bite to eat, Rum.”

        “Now?” he asked in surprise.

        “Yes, dear, I don’t want you collapsing with that empty belly of yours,” she smiled up at him to let him know she was teasing.  “And have some pie.”

        Baelfire joined in her giggling.  “Lots of pie is good.”

        “Yes, well you eat your dinner before you even think about pie, son,” he said firmly.  “I’ll be back soon, m’lady.”  He bowed to her and ambled off as fast as he could through the crowded room towards the kitchens.

        The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity with the feast in full swing.  Which was why he was rather startled when Mrs. Potts grabbed him by the arm and propelled him towards the end of her work counter, plopping a plate of food before him with a stern command to ‘tuck in’.  He didn’t argue with the woman, wolfing down his food so he could return to the hall.  He passed on the blackberry pie she set before him, draining his tankard of mead as he rose to his feet.  His ankle twinged at the sudden shift in weight, but he ignored it.  He needed to return to his mistress, his angel from heaven disguised as a princess.  He shook his head, mentally scolding himself for his wayward thoughts.  He was traversing a dangerous path with his mistress, and if he weren’t careful, he’d lose his heart to her.  She held his life, his son’s life in her delicate little hands, he couldn’t allow her to have his heart.  He couldn’t allow himself to become vulnerable to that pain again.  He’d given himself body and soul to his wife and she’d done everything in her power to make sure he knew how unworthy of that emotion he truly was.

        The minstrels were playing and the jesters were doing their best to entertain the court when he returned to the hall and took up his place behind Belle’s chair once more.  She was having a lively discussion with Lyssa, but paused when she noticed his presence, reaching out her hand to grasp his and pull him forward.  It was almost as if she’d been watching for him.  He leaned down so he could hear her over the din of music and laughter.

        “Did you have enough to eat and drink, dear?” she asked, her eyes warm with pleasure as she met his gaze.

        “Yes, m’lady, thank you,” he answered, his heart fluttering as she traced little circles over the back of his hand.

        “Lovely,” she murmured.  “Thorrin is to be knighted in a little ceremony once the meal is over.  Do you think we should send Bae to bed before or after?” she asked, seeking his advice.

        He glanced over at his son who was watching the performers with avid interest.  “I doubt we’d be able to tear him away, to be honest.  And he wouldn’t be happy to miss seeing his new friend officially become a knight of the realm.”

        “I thought so, but I wanted your counsel.”

        Rumpelstiltskin immediately regretted the loss of contact as she let go of his hand and turned back to her previous conversation with Lucern’s wife.  He could feel the prince’s eyes boring a hole into his head as he stepped back and meekly lowered his gaze.  His discomfort grew until with the blast of a trumpet, dinner was called to an end and the courtiers who’d been invited to the forthcoming ceremony began to file out of the hall.

        Belle tucked Baelfire’s hand securely in her own as she took hold of Thorrin’s arm and allowed him to escort her.  She kept her steps measured, earning a querulous glance from the soon to be knight, but she wanted to make sure Rumpelstiltskin had no difficulties keeping to her pace.  Gaston was waiting for her at the ornate double doors leading into the throne room.

        “Thor, I’m so proud of you,” she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

        “Thank you, highness,” he replied, blushing at her praise as he handed her off to Gaston.  “It is an honor to serve you and the royal family.”

        “G’luck, Thorrin,” Bae chirped happily.

        Gaston lifted the boy in his arms, bouncing him lightly on his hip.  “And how did you enjoy the feast, m’lad?  Is your tummy full?”

        “Yes, sir,” he answered, laying his head on the knight’s shoulder.

        Belle giggled.  “Looks like you’ve made a new friend,” she said as they walked towards the dais where she would be seated for the ceremony next to her father and brother’s opulent thrones.

        “He’s a good boy,” Gaston smiled down at her.  “Almost like a nephew, one would say.”

        Belle sighed and cut her eyes up at her friend.  “Gaz,” she warned, smiling back at Rumpelstiltskin who trailed behind them.  “Now is not a good time for this conversation.”

        He grinned unrepentantly as he mounted the steps and released her so she could take her seat.  A small footstool had been set next to her own throne for Baelfire.  Despite the noise in the room, she could hear whispers and feel the weight of the court’s stares when they noticed the boy.  She let her fingers trail idly through his hair, giving the impression of outward calm when in reality she was seething inside.  What she wouldn’t give to retreat to the summer palace down the coast.

        Rumpelstiltskin kept his gaze on the princess and his son as he took up his appointed position at the bottom of the steps, letting her soothing presence wash over him and still the restless energy humming beneath his skin.  If he concentrated hard enough, he might be able to block out the rest of the people who seemed to press in on him from all sides.  Yet he wasn’t able to un-hear some of the things being said about his mistress, and it called up a loathing so strong it caused his teeth to clench and his cheeks to redden.

        “Do you think it’s _her_ child and she’s only now chosen to claim him?”

        “Don’t be absurd, Kristina.  She’s simply doing a good deed by taking the boy in,” the noblewoman scoffed, raising a monocle to her eye to peer closer at the boy.

        “Pfft!” Lady Kristina scoffed.  “Surely, you’ve noticed how familiar she seems with her newest servant.  It’s not so far-fetched to assume –“

        “Kristina dear, you know what happens when one assumes.”

        The noblewoman glared hotly at her friend.  “Oh please!  Why else would she want a lame servant?  She’s obviously sleeping with him.  He doesn’t exactly need two good legs in bed.”

        Lady Smythe looked down her nose at the younger woman and sniffed imperiously.  “I’d watch my tongue if I were you, m’dear.  It isn’t wise to cast aspersions on our dear princess.”  She left the woman standing there and moved off to stand beside her husband.

        Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes briefly and tried to concentrate on the booming voice of the king as he called Thorrin forward and had him kneel on the carpeted runner, but his thoughts continued to drift back to the whispers he couldn’t help to have overheard.  Did they really think the princess had taken him to her bed?  He snorted.  As if someone as sweet and pure as Belle would ever look twice at him in such a manner.  So lost in his dark thoughts, it came as a shock when the court erupted in applause for their newest knight.  But then Belle and Bae were descending the dais and her wide eyes met his in askance.

        “I think I’d like to retire now, Rumpel,” she said, her brow furrowing when he gave her a stiff nod.  She’d already wished her family a good evening and bid Thorrin and Gaston farewell, leaving her free to leave the festivities.  She simply wanted the sanctuary of her room and time with Baelfire before she sought her own slumber.  And she wanted mostly to know what had upset her servant and sent him into a brooding silence.

        The trek to the east wing was fraught with tension, and she breathed a sigh of relief as they arrived at their rooms.  She didn’t hesitate to follow Bae into the room he shared with his father.  “Alright, darling, have a quick wash and get into your nightclothes.”

        “Are you gonna tell me a story tonight?” he asked as he disappeared behind the screen.

        “Yes, Bae,” she replied with a fond smile as he zipped across the room and jumped onto his bed.  She picked up the large book of fairy tales from the coffee table and followed after him, sitting on the edge of his bed and thumbing through the tome to find a story for him.

        Rumpelstiltskin shrugged out of his frock coat and laid it over the back of a chair as he tugged furiously at the cravat about his neck, feeling as if the blasted thing would choke him to death.  He dragged in a deep breath as he sat down at his wheel, taking advantage of the princess’s time with his son to spin for a bit.  He listened to her story with only half an ear, trying to focus on something aside from his anger.  But not even her lilting voice or the smooth motion of the wheel could calm him that evening.

        “Rumpel?” Belle touched his shoulder lightly, the book clasped tightly to her chest.  “Are you alright?”

        “Yes, Belle,” he lied, refusing to meet her eyes.

        She hummed doubtfully and moved to set her book aside.  “Bae’s asleep.  Would it be too much to ask you to fetch us some tea?”

        He rose stiffly and balanced heavily on his cane.  “Of course not.”

        It was with worry creasing her brow that she watched him leave the room.  Something had happened to upset him and she was determined to find out what it was.  She disappeared into her own room to change and found her maid asleep on the sofa.  “Gerta, dear, I’m … Gerta!  Are you alright?” she asked, hurrying to the woman’s side.

        “Oh, highness, forgive me,” the maid apologized.  “I didn’t mean to doze off, but I’m afraid I might be coming down with a cold.”

        Belle pressed the back of her hand to Gerta’s brow and winced.  “I’d say it’s already here, dear.  Go, run along and ask Mrs. Littleton to fetch the healer to give you a potion to see to your symptoms.  I believe I can manage this evening.”

        “You’re sure?  I don’t want to leave you unaided,” she protested.

        “Yes, I insist.  Good night, dear.  I hope you feel better.”

        It took several moments for Belle to realize what she’d done by sending her maid away. “Damn!” she hissed, remembering the long row of buttons at the back of her dress which she had no hope of unfastening by herself.  She chewed anxiously on her thumbnail.  It would be so wrong of her to ask Rumpelstiltskin to help her disrobe, but what other choice did she have?

        He returned shortly with their tea and paused in the adjoining doorway of their rooms, hesitantly peeking in.  “Belle?”

        “Come in, dear,” she called, gesturing to the table set before the hearth to relieve his burden.  “Sit and have a cup with me?”

        She stopped him before he could lower himself to sit at her feet, urging him onto the sofa.  He grudgingly did as she wished and took the cup from her.  “Thank you.”

        “Are you ready to tell me what has upset you?” she asked softly, peering at him from beneath her long lashes.

        He very nearly burned his tongue on the steaming brew as he met her gaze over the rim of his cup.  “I’m not –“

        “Don’t lie to me, Rumpelstiltskin,” she cut him off.  “I can practically see the anger rolling off of you in waves.  Something happened at Thorrin’s ceremony to upset you and I want to know what it was.”

        Her servant’s lips clamped firmly shut as he set his cup down on the tray and folded his hands in his lap.  “I assure you it was nothing.”  He rose to his feet and went to her dresser, removing her nightgown and dressing robe and laying it over the screen.

        Belle sighed and set her empty cup on the tray, rising from her seat to follow him.  “I had to send Gerta to her bed; she’s fallen ill.  Would you please help with my stays so I can change?” she asked in a gentle tone, giving him her back.

        The spinner licked his suddenly dry lips and swallowed around the lump in his throat, but he knew he couldn’t deny her simple request.  Simple?  His heart had taken wing in his chest at the thought of laying hands on her, and his fingers trembled as he touched the first button.

        “Rumpel, you know you can tell me anything, right?  I would never betray your confidence,” she whispered, a shiver tripping up her spine as she felt his callused fingers brush against her skin.  “Won’t you please tell me what’s troubling you?”

        He sighed in defeat, his warm breath ghosting ever so lightly over her nape.  “I … There were ladies whispering about you, and I didn’t much care for it.”

        She forced her voice to remain steady as she dragged in a calming breath.  It didn’t help.  Her skin tingled where it met his and butterflies the size of condors had taken flight in her belly, desire coursing through her like wildfire.  “What did they say?”

        He gnashed his teeth together.  He’d rather cut out his own tongue than tell her of what he’d overheard, but he knew she wouldn’t let it rest until he’d confessed.  “They were speculating on whether or not Bae is your bastard and if you’d taken me to your bed yet.”

        Belle gasped at his bluntness, but it quickly turned into a chuckle, causing him to pause at his task to gape at her.  “Wow,” she murmured dryly.  “They don’t waste any time, do they?”

        “They seemed to think you were a bit more familiar with me than necessary,” he replied caustically as the last button slipped free and she turned to face him, a hand held to her loose bodice to hold it in place.

        She was so close, her petal soft lips so inviting, her eyes filled with an emotion he didn’t want to contemplate.  She lifted her free hand and cradled his cheek in her warm palm, drawing his gaze to hers.  He was helpless, frozen beneath her touch, aching with desire to hold her.  What had happened to his firm resolve to keep his distance?  None of that mattered when she touched him.  “Do I make you uncomfortable, Rumpelstiltskin?  Should I not show you the affection I feel in my heart?”

        He leaned into her touch, unable to resist her allure.  “No.” His voice was no more than a ragged whisper.  “I am yours to do with what you will … a willing slave to your whims.”

        She shook her head.  “Never my slave, Rum.  You may call yourself my servant and friend … never my slave.”  She brushed away the hair which had fallen over his eyes, reveling at the embers of passion burning in his sable eyes.  “I’ve always been a very tactile person.  I give of myself freely to my family and friends because I want them to never doubt how I feel about them.  But if you wish it … I will refrain with you.”

        As she withdrew her hand and stepped back, he could feel the warmth leech from his skin and he knew the true depths of despair.  He reached out, his fingers curling about her wrist as he brought her hand back to his cheek.  “No, please.  I’m unworthy of your comfort, your friendship … yet I crave it, Belle.”  His voice cracked, heavy with unshed tears.  “I’ve never had anyone care for me the way you do.  I’m afraid for you to see me for who I truly am … afraid you’ll send me away once you see what a coward I am.”

        “I would never send you away, Rumpel, and I doubt you will ever be able to convince me that you’re a coward.”  She carded her fingers through his hair and guided his head down to her shoulder, whispering soothing nonsense into his ear until he relaxed and accepted her gentle embrace.  “Don’t listen to that nest of vipers who make up my father’s court.  They can only hurt you if you let them.  Trust me, darling.  We’re going to be great friends … I promise.”

        Her tears soaked into the silk of his shirt as he clung to her.  He was so damaged, so hurt by others for far too long, and she just wanted him to be happy.  He needed to let go of the past and embrace their future, to trust her not to hurt him.  She hummed happily against his ear as his arms wound about her waist and pulled her just a bit closer.  This was the beginning, a tentative step in a new direction.  She was scared to death of the emotions rioting within her, but she wouldn’t fail him.  She knew she could love him if he’d only let her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well? Was it everything you hoped it would be? :D I loved writing this chapter, especially this last scene. Anyhoo! Next chapter we’re going to advance the passage of time a bit six weeks or so. Belle has a gift for Rum and Lucern stumbles upon a secret. I want to thank you all for your lovely reviews and comments. They make me so unbelievably happy to read your thoughts on this story. Thank you all so very much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi! Surprise! Two years ago I posted the introductory chapter of my very first fic ‘Why Did You Stay’, so I suppose that makes today my Rumbelle anniversary, yeah? Let’s celebrate with a mid-week chapter *tosses confetti* Hope you enjoy!!!

**Six weeks later** **…**

Rumpelstiltskin sat back on the small stool he occupied next to the padded bench beside Belle under the pavilion and sighed happily as he watched Baelfire play on the training field with some of the other boys.  His son was flourishing, a jubilant smile never far from his lips.  He had friends – ones who were happy to engage him in a mock battle with their wooden swords under the watchful eye of his assigned guard and his parents – and they didn’t look at him with pity in their eyes because his father was the village coward.  The reading primer lay open on his lap as his gaze flickered over to his mistress.  He could view her as nothing other than Bae’s parent, really.  She was never far from the child, having spent more time with him in six weeks than his own mother had in the seven and a half years since his birth.

        His gaze traveled over her appreciatively, taking in her sparkling cerulean eyes and the bright smile on her lips as she cheered for his son.  She was completely devoted to the boy … to both of them, actually.  It still stole his breath when he allowed himself to think over how much his life had changed for the better.  He wondered when the other shoe would drop and some horrible happenstance would occur to steal it all away from him.  He’d never seen Baelfire so happy and content.  Bae still balked over his studies, giving his tutor no end of difficulties, but it was to be expected when he’d rather spend time with his new friends or trotting off with Thorrin on the new pony Belle had procured for him.  He had everything he could ever possibly want or need and it was all because of his mistress.  He’d never be able to repay her for the way she doted on his son.

        Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t just happy because of the advantages heaped upon his boy, however.  There were more than a few perks in being the princess’s servant.  Most of the time, he felt more of a companion than anything.  His work load was light, most often fetching her tea and accompanying her about the palace while she went about her duties as princess.  It was definitely no hardship to spend time with her.  She’d been right, of course … about becoming his friend.  He’d had no choice but to let her in.  His mistress was everything which was good and precious in the tumult of his life, her light shining brightly in her smile.  And it filled him with no small amount of pride to know he’d brought that smile to her rosebud mouth.

        Now, he carried himself proudly, would meet the gazes of his fellow servants with a smile of greeting if he met them in the corridors and hallways.  He no longer worried that the people he lived amongst would look on him with scorn and judge him for his past.  He still avoided the court like the plague, thankful she didn’t spend a great amount of time with them.  He wasn’t at all adept at dealing with their snide remarks and veiled cruelties. 

        His Belle had shown him what it was like to be a stronger man.  She’d saved him, and it was a debt he’d never be able to repay.  She’d lifted him out of a miserable marriage and meager existence, and given him a new life … a _better_ life.  And he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.  Of course, he’d never tell her.  He would not burden her with his feelings when he knew there wasn’t a possibility of her returning them.  He was still a peasant beneath the fine clothes she’d provided for him.  How could he ever hope to be anything more?  Belle never treated him any different than she would anyone else, be he peasant or noble, but the fact remained … a princess would never choose a commoner to spend her life with.  She would eventually have to marry and her family would insist upon someone worthy, someone who shared her station in life.  That, unfortunately, could never be him.

        Oh, but it was nice to dream, he thought with a melancholy sigh of longing.  Already, she was a mother to Bae.  She deferred to him when it came to his son, not wanting to intrude on his role as the boy’s father, but he could see she wanted his little one to be more than just her ward.  She wanted an active role in raising him, soothing his hurts, calming his fears, and it surprised him that he was willing to share his son so easily.  It had always been a bone of contention between him and Milah, the lack of attention she gave their boy.  With Belle, he never had to ask.  She was always there … for both of them.  If only things were different and he didn’t have to hide what he felt so deeply in his heart.

        A pleasant shiver tripped along his spine as her cool fingers slipped beneath his hair to caress his nape, his eyes closing in bliss as he suppressed a groan.  “Rumpel, you stopped reading.  Are you stuck on a word, dear?”

        “No, m’lady,” he murmured, using an acceptable title considering they weren’t alone, but surrounded by several ladies from the court “I suppose I was caught up in watching Bae.”

        Her face bloomed with pleasure as she looked out over the small corner of the training field to watch their boy.  “He seems to be having fun.  Do you think he’ll fuss overmuch when it’s time for us to go in?”

        “I doubt it.  Mrs. Potts will have a treat waiting for him, so that should curb any rebelliousness he might display.  That woman spoils him terribly,” he said, his smile belying his scolding tone.  His easy acceptance of the woman might have something to do with how she spoiled him too.  He slipped his book into the satchel he kept with him, trying to calm the butterflies flapping away in his belly as her hand slid away from his nape to lift his chin, her thumb caressing his unshaven jaw.

        “Shall we go in?  We could take tea on the terrace before Bae’s lessons this afternoon.”

        “As you wish, m’lady,” he replied, bracing his cane to lever himself off the stool and offer her a hand up.  He followed her from the pavilion and stepped off of the path to call his boy.  “Come along, Baelfire.  It’s time for lessons, son.”

        “Awww, papa, can’t I stay a little longer? Please?” he begged, but Thorrin was already gathering up their things.  He fell into step between his father and Belle, grinning impishly up at her.  “Did you see me, Belle?  Didya?  I had so much fun!  Abel said we might be able to go riding together tomorrow.  Can I go, papa?”

        Rumpelstiltskin smiled at his son.  “We’ll see.  I believe we might be able to persuade Belle to let you go riding if you do well at your lessons this afternoon.”

        Belle hid her smile behind her hand and nodded sagely.  “Yes, I might.  But you always do well, don’t you, darling?” she asked with a wink.

        “Yes, ma’am.  Papa says I’m smart.”

        “Then I suppose we’ll be riding tomorrow morning with your friend.”

        Rumpelstiltskin groaned at the idea of getting back in the saddle.  His own riding lessons weren’t quite as fun as Bae’s.  Belle insisted on teaching him herself and the feel of her pressed against his back, her arms tight about his waist, and her warm breath tickling his ear as she guided his hands on the reins was the absolute in sexual torture.  He was thankful for the long riding jacket she’d provided as part of his wardrobe, the length long enough to hide his painful erection when the lesson was over.  Oh, if he couldn’t get a grip on his feelings for her, he was going to find himself in a world of trouble.

        Belle’s tiny gasp instantly sent a tremor of alarm through him as they rounded the bend in the path.  “What is it, m’lady?”

        “Thorrin, run ahead and see if the items I asked father to order have come in, please,” she said, turning to the knight in her excitement.  “I’ll see to Bae and meet you in the bailey.”

        Rumpelstiltskin tried to mask his puzzled frown, but she saw nonetheless.  A teasing smile curled her lips, her eyes alight with pleasure and mischief.  “A new shipment of books, perhaps?” he quipped, tugging on Baelfire’s hand to get him moving.  The boy was just as eager as Belle to sort through the boxes and crates heaped upon the wagons being unloaded at the rear of the palace.

        There was a bounce in her step as she gripped Bae’s other hand and entered through the archway that would lead them to the library where the boy’s tutor was sure to be waiting for his afternoon lesson.  “Undoubtedly.  It’s not often a ship returns to port without at least one new box of books.  Luc is an avid reader as well, so I’m hoping to get to them first before he gets all the good ones and spirits them away to his apartments.”  She giggled.  “It’s always been a game with us.  When he does beat me to them, the gloating is nigh unbearable.”

        Bae tugged gently on her hand to gain her attention.  “Can I help?  I want to go through the books with you.  Maybe they’ll have some new storybooks to read at bedtime!”

        Rumpelstiltskin pushed open one of the large oak doors that led into the library and then ruffled his son’s unruly curls.  “You have to see to your lesson, Bae.  Afterwards, if Belle wants you to, you can go through the new books with her.”

        “Ah, young master,” Mr. Lawson beamed at the child, rising from his seat at the long table piled high with all manner of books.  “Are you ready to begin?”

        “I suppose,” Baelfire replied with a dejected sigh.  “Can we do maths first?”

        “Of course.”

        Belle leaned down to kiss his brow, promising to return soon and then preceded her servant from the room.  She had to keep her steps measured to his pace.  Which was a good thing.  It wasn’t smiled upon to see the princess running through the corridors.  Decorum and all.  She had to bite down on her lip as she reached the bailey where Thorrin was waiting for her with a wide grin. 

        He rocked back on his heels, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.  “There were three crates of books in this shipment, highness.  I asked Merrick and Gwain to bring them to your rooms.”  His eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “But whyever would you want four go –“

        Her hand slapped forcefully against his mouth, her eyes widening in alarm as he nearly spilled her secrets.  “Shhhhhhh!  It’s a surprise, Thor!  Were they really delivered?”

        The young knight nodded slowly, relieved when she released him.  “Aye, highness.  Right now they’re in your garden … erm … I sent two of the stable boys to keep watch on them.  Might I ask where you’re going to keep them permanently?”

        Belle grimaced.  “The garden is walled well enough for now, yeah?  Until I can get someone to build a suitable shelter?”

        “In the garden, highness?!”

        “Well of course,” she hissed a furious whisper, smiling at Rumpelstiltskin over her shoulder where he waited patiently for her to conclude her business.  “I want him to have access to them at his convenience and I can’t have him traipsing all over creation with that bum leg of his.  I’d never forgive myself if my gift caused him undue pain.”

        Thorrin chuckled.  “You’re such a softie, m’lady.” He bent his head near her ear.  “Don’t worry … I won’t tell anyone.”

        Belle swatted at him playfully, unable to hold back her giggles which had Rumpelstiltskin frowning at her in bewilderment.  “Alright, lad, off with you.  I’m sure Baelfire is wondering what’s keeping you.”

        “Shall we come to the garden after his lesson?”

        “Yes, please do.  I think he’ll enjoy my gift just as much as I believe his father will.”  Her gaze softened as she looked on her spinner, praying he wouldn’t balk at another surprise.  He really did hate taking things from her.  She hoped he would get over that horrible habit with a little more time, but she knew it was unlikely.

       

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin shied away from her at the edge of the garden path as she advanced on him with the thin strip of silk she’d removed from her gown.  He tried to focus on what she was going to do with it rather than the fact that it had been just moments before tied beneath her lovely bosom. “Mistress … ah … princess … Belle!” he cried, throwing up a hand to ward her off.

        “Please?  It’s not very much of a surprise if you can see it before the big reveal, now is it?” she pouted, her lower lip protruding a bit.

        He stifled a groan, wondering what it would be like to draw that lip – which haunted his dreams to no end – between his own.  He lifted his cane, holding it out to her as if it were explanation enough.  “But –“

        “Rumpelstiltskin, you wound me.  As if I would allow you to fall.”  She stepped closer, could feel his hesitancy weaken just a bit as he didn’t retreat this time.  “Won’t you trust me just a little?  Please?”

        It didn’t escape his notice that she could quite easily command him to do as she wished and he’d have no choice but to obey.  Instead, she was gently pleading with him.  How could he deny her when she’d done so much for him already?  His fondest wish was to accede to her every desire.  “I _do_ trust you, Belle.”  It wasn’t a lie.  If there was anyone in all of Avonlea he felt he could trust, it was his princess.  She bounced a little on the balls of her feet, her joy apparent.  “Fine.  Do your worst.”

        Rumpelstiltskin sucked in a ragged breath as she stepped closer, the front of her gown brushing against his leather clad legs as she draped the cloth over his eyes.  He leaned heavily upon his cane as he lowered his head to give her better access to tie it behind his head, his cheek pressing to hers.  He breathed her in, delighting in the scent of lilac and vanilla which clung to her.  He should have felt shame that he’d use any excuse to be close to her, but he couldn’t dredge up those feelings just then, not when she was lingering at her task, seeming to enjoy the intimate touch no matter how innocent it was.

        His heart hammered and he had to fight to control his breathing as her delicate noble hands cupped his neck, her thumbs rubbing lightly against his jaw, evidently enjoying the texture of his stubble against her skin.  He still couldn’t fathom her reasons for wanting to touch him, much less why she took pleasure from it.

        Belle wasn’t so lucky at masking her own desire for him.  “There … see, that wasn’t so bad,” she said in a breathy little whisper.  She bit her lip to stop herself from kissing him and let her hands trail over his dark red silk sleeves to firmly clasp his hands in her own.  She took his cane from his cool fingers and hooked the handle over her arm before leading him forward with careful steps.  “Just trust me, Rumpel.  I won’t let you fall.”

        Sight stolen from him by his mischievous mistress, his ears pricked up, his hearing heightened.  Yet, the sounds that met his ears contradicted their venue.  He could hear the fountain trickling in a soothing rhythm, the breeze rifling through the leaves of the fruit trees scattered throughout, and the shuffling of their feet on the cobblestone path.  There was nothing unusual in that.  It was the sounds he hadn’t heard since coming to Avonlea – at least in the princess’s garden – that had him furrowing his brow behind the blindfold she’d insisted he wear.

        “Almost there, dear … just a few more steps,” she said encouragingly.

        “Belle, where are you taking me?” he queried, impatient to learn her secrets.  The sounds of livestock had him more than a little puzzled and he’d never been the most patient man.  His skin prickled and he gripped tightly to her hands, his grasp almost painful as fear lodged firmly in his chest.  What if a dangerous animal had somehow made its way from the forest to the south and had gained access to the garden.  How was he to protect her if he was blindfolded?  “Something’s not right … something off,” he whispered fiercely, pulling her forward as his arms wrapped protectively around her.

        The princess squeaked in surprise, her body stiffening before relaxing against him, taking advantage of the warm weight of his arms crushing her against his chest.  That delicious thrill of anticipation took flight in her belly as she fought the urge to press closer lest she frighten him away.  But as long as his attention was focused elsewhere … she nuzzled her nose against the hollow of his throat, so pleasantly on display by his open collar.  “Rum … there’s nothing to fear.  I promise.”

        Her lips brushed against his skin with each word, every syllable reminiscent of a kiss and he shivered, feeling the salty twang of fear recede from his tongue.

        Belle eased out of his arms with a sigh of regret and took his hands once more, leading him forward until they reached the little sitting area beneath a plum tree.  She pressed gently against his shoulders until he took a seat on the padded bench and rested his cane at his side.

        “Can I take this silly thing off now?” he asked in a quiet tone, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

        “Not yet, dear,” she chuckled, sitting beside him and smoothing her hands over her skirt as she nodded to the two stable boys to bring out his gifts.  “Just a moment more.”

        His fingers drummed impatiently against his thighs as he waited, swiveling his head to and fro to try to see if there were any spaces he could peer from beneath the blindfold.  He was rather disappointed when he found none.  He winced slightly as she tugged at the knot of the blindfold, a few strands of his hair pulling free along with the cloth, but then he forgot about any discomfort as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight and he took in the sight before him.

        Rumpelstiltskin blinked rapidly against the moisture pricking behind his lids, unable to speak for the lump of emotion lodged in his throat.  His thin lips opened and closed several times before he turned to gaze into her expectant cerulean eyes.  “Y-You bought …” he stammered, unable to finish.

        Belle grinned unabashedly, turning to glance at the animals.  “I didn’t see any harm in buying you a few goats and rabbits.  You said yourself these produce the finest wool,” she mumbled, not at all sure if he were happy with her gift.  “I-I mean if you don’t like them, I can send them to the spinners employed by my father for their use, but I really wanted to –“

        Her voice was abruptly cut off as his arms wrapped about her waist and hauled her almost onto his lap, his face disappearing in her fragrant curls.  “No one’s ever … thank you,” he breathed, his chest hurting with the force of his control – control much needed to keep from weeping all over her.  And then he realized what he’d done and he was withdrawing, taking no note as to how she was clinging to him.  “Oh, Belle, I’m so sorry … I never meant … forgive me for being so forward.”

        She blushed prettily and looked away lest he see something in her gaze she knew he wasn’t quite ready for.  One of the stable boys brought forth one of the rabbits and laid it gently in her arms.  “Stop apologizing, dear.  Oh, it’s so soft,” she exclaimed, reaching for his hand to set it atop the bunny.  His cheeks bloomed with color, his hands brushing against hers as they petted the animal. 

        He rose unsteadily from the bench, his gaze drawn to the four goats, his eyes widening as he took in their differences.  “Belle … Belle!  These two are cashmere goats!!  Do you have any idea what they are worth?”

        Belle waved a dismissive hand as she set the rabbit in the grass at her feet.  “Of course not.  I asked papa to order them for me.  Wait … they were all supposed to be Angora goats.  He ordered the wrong ones,” she cried in dismay.  “Shall I have him send them back?”

        Rumpelstiltskin laughed in disbelief.  “No!” He held his hand out to her and led her over to one of the long haired Angora goats.  “No, Belle, their wool is prized.  Its wool is called mohair and it makes beautiful fabrics … though not as soft as from the cashmere goats.”

        She quickly got distracted, unable to resist petting it.  “Rumpel, look at his ears,” she gushed, reaching out to stroke the velvety softness.  Her fingers moved on to tangle in the long curls obscuring its eyes.  “Oh, I think I’m jealous.”

        “Of what?” he asked curiously.

        “Look at his curls!”

        He couldn’t help but laugh.  It was funny watching the very proper princess become so enraptured by a goat, and he kept one eye on her as he inspected first one and then the other.  He fell back on his haunches as he realized the magnitude of the gift she’d bestowed upon him.  “Belle …”

        “Rumpel, what is it?” she asked, ignoring the wee bunny which hopped onto her skirts and nestled down into the well it made for itself.

        “They’re a breeding pair … a male and a female.  This is too much … I can’t accept such a gift.”

        “Check the others.”

        He did as she asked, his heart sinking and a heavy weight in his stomach as his suspicions were confirmed.  “They too are pairs, Belle.”

        She lifted the bunny in her lap just to confirm it for herself.  “It doesn’t matter, Rumpel.  I ordered these for you … so you would have your own animals, your own wool … for your spinning.  Don’t you like them?” she asked, her eyes wide and liquid at the thought of him refusing her gift.  “If they are breeding –“ she blushed furiously at the word, “--pairs, as you say, you will never be without again.  If you decide to leave me after your contract is up, at least I won’t have to worry about you not having a steady income.”

        “Belle …”

        She shook her head and raised her chin proudly.  “No, Rumpel.  It would be the height of rudeness to reject my gift.  And since I know you don’t have a rude bone in your body, we shall consider the matter closed.”

        “I could never repay you,” he said softly, berating himself silently for upsetting her.  He could spin for a thousand lifetimes and never touch the surface of what he owed her.  Yet, she didn’t see it that way.  He now knew it would be an insult to her should he even try.  She really believed herself to be showering gifts upon him and he would only insult her more if he continued to argue.  As far as leaving her service … the very thought made him ill.  They’d have to drag him from the palace by force to make him leave if she wanted him to stay.

        Her blush deepened as she leaned just a little closer to him, peering up at him from beneath her lashes.  “I know how you could repay me,” she murmured, her lips curling up into a shy grin.

        His senses were instantly on alert, never having suspected she had an ounce of shyness in her entire body.  “How?” he whispered, finding himself breathless as she inched closer to him from across the grass.

        Belle bit her lip, gathering her indomitable courage about her like a cloak.  “You can pay me with a kiss.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s mouth gaped open, feeling as if someone had punched him in the gut.  “A k-kiss?”

        “Mhmm,” she hummed softly, her nose brushing gently against his.  “A kiss is a token of affection, a way of saying thank you, or a gesture between friends.  It isn’t as if I haven’t kissed _you_ before.”

        He inhaled sharply, her sweet floral fragrance wrapping around him and muddling his good sense.  _Oh, gods!  She wants me to kiss her!_ Did she not know he wanted nothing more?  _What if I do kiss her and I can’t stop?_ he worried.  He shivered as her cool fingertips touched his brow, brushing an errant lock of his hair away from his eyes.  Why would she even want him to kiss her?  His mistress was free with her touches, her kisses, never hesitating to share one with him when he’d particularly pleased her.  A fleeting touch to his hand, his arm … a brush of her petal soft lips to his brow, his cheek.  Those moments were precious to him and never failed to send his heart hammering against his ribs, but never had he been fortunate enough to feel his lips joined so intimately to hers.  He didn’t know if his heart could withstand such pleasure.

        Belle’s breath fanned against his lips, a whisper of a caress.  “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Rum.  I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable.  I –“

        _Gods beard!  Please don’t let me fuck this up,_ he swore feverishly within the confines of his mind.  His hand trembled as his fingers wrapped around the slim column of her neck, his thumb tracing the smooth curve of her jaw.  A thousand doubts surged to the forefront of his mind as his lips claimed the one she was so fond of biting.  Would she find him as clumsy in his attempts as Milah had?  Would she mock him, slap him, scold him as his wife had been so quick to do?  Those fears were quickly laid to rest as her hand rose to cradle his cheek, a sweet sigh falling from her lips at the first taste of him.

        Belle tried to remain calm despite the rioting emotions which made her head spin.  So much heat, so much need … all from a simple brush of his lips.  She could practically feel his body vibrating with tension and she knew the slightest discordant move would send him fleeing.  Which was the last thing she wanted.  How long had she wanted this, _needed_ this, from her spinner?  She loved him with her whole heart.  If only he could return her feelings.  Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribs.  She wanted nothing more than to push him back against the soft grass and kiss him senseless, to explore the tantalizing flesh of his neck, to taste the hollow of his throat where it dipped so sweetly between his clavicles.  She wanted to weep when he pulled away with a shy smile.

        She fought to keep her lower lip from trembling at his murmured, “Thank you.”  Slowly, he pulled away and her hand balled into a fist on her lap to stop herself from reaching for him again.

        Thankfully, their awkwardness was rendered moot as Thorrin and Baelfire turned onto the path and the boy rushed over to his parents excitedly.  “Papa!” he exclaimed, throwing himself at his father.  “Where did the goats come from?  And bunnies!”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s cheeks were still flushed a bright pink as he embraced his son.  “Belle procured them for us to use their wool at the wheel.  They are a gift.”

        Bae lifted one of the rabbits into his arms and snuggled it against his face, burying his nose in the soft fur.  “It’s so soft,” he cooed.  “I want it to sleep in my room, papa.  Can he?”

        “I don’t know about that, son.”

        Belle giggled.  “What if we have a special pen built and let them sleep on my terrace.  Would you like that instead?” she asked, not sure if letting the rabbits sleep with him would be such a good idea.  She could already imagine rabbit pellets blanketing the thick Agrabahan carpet in their room and the fuss Mrs. Littleton would make should she see them.

        Happy with the compromise, he wiggled off of his father’s lap and turned his attention to the goats.  Holding his bunny in one arm, he reached out a little hand and wound his fingers in the Angora male’s long curls.  “This one looks like Nanny.  Remember Nanny, papa?” he asked with a sniff, the memory of his former pet making him sad.

        “I do, Bae,” Rumpelstiltskin said with a solemn nod. 

        He set his rabbit down next to Belle and crawled over to one of the cashmere goats.  “I’ve never seen a goat like this.  What kind is it, papa?” He ran his hand over the coarse wool and drew back, his nose wrinkling as he frowned.  “His coat feels funny.”

        His father chuckled and moved to his side, taking his son’s hand in his own and once again rubbed the coarse wool.  “Feel that?  That is called the guard hair.  When he’s shorn, we can use this wool for a sturdier weave.”  He moved the boy’s fingers where he could feel the soft undercoat.  “But this here will make the softest fabric, the silkiest thread.  We’ll be able to make all manner of fine things for our lady, won’t we?”

        “I think I want to name this one Bob.”

        Belle dissolved into giggles.  “Bob?  A goat named Bob … I like it.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Lucern threw open the east gate leading into his sister’s private garden, frustrated that she’d once again beaten him to the treasure trove of books which had come in on the ship.  And now he was more than a little confused, wondering what in the seven realms she could possibly want with livestock.  His eyes had nearly fallen out of his head when he’d gone over the manifest and learned they were for her.  Merrick had been quick to inform him as to where they’d been taken instead of to the pens where such animals were usually housed.  No doubt it had to do with her servant.  He wondered if he should be worried over the relationship she was building with the man.  He seemed harmless enough with his shy demeanor and willingness to please her in a servile capacity, but …

        He’d nearly reached Belle’s favorite area of the garden when a hand clamped over his mouth and he was dragged behind a hedge.  His hand went immediately to the hilt of his sword, but a voice in his ear quelled his outrage and left him more confused than anything.  “Gaz!  What the hell, man?!” he hissed, staring hard at his friend.  “Why are you hiding in the bloody hedges?”

        “Shh!  Luc, I’m sorry, but I don’t think Belle would appreciate your untimely interruption,” the knight returned, poking his head over the bushes to watch as Belle leaned closer to her spinner.

        Lucern’s mouth flopped open in surprise as he joined his friend and got his first look of what was going on between his sister and her servant.  “Fucking hell!  How long has this been going on?” he asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously as Belle inched closer and the man closed the distance between them for a sweet kiss.

        “They’ve been dancing around each other almost from the beginning.  Everyone can see how they feel about each other … except for them.  Love really is blind.”

        “He’s taking advantage of her.  Double her guard.”

        “Lucern, really?” Gaston asked, shaking his head.  “Look at her?  Have you ever seen her so happy?”

        The prince glowered at the scene before him, his brow furrowed in a dark frown.  “No, I can’t say as I have.  But he’s a peasant!”

        “And she’s in love with him.”

        “How do you know?”

        Gaston rolled his eyes.  “Are you blind?  She looks at him the same way you look at your beloved wife.”

        Lucern dragged his hand through his chestnut locks, pulling out a few strands in his frustration.  “This won’t do, Gaz.  She can’t be with a peasant.  She has an obligation to carry on our line.  She’s a princess for fuck’s sake!”

        “So what? You’re going to force her to marry a man of your choosing?” the knight asked, his ire rising.  Lucern was a hothead and it wouldn’t do for him to make a decision regarding Belle’s future in the heat of the moment.  “She won’t like it.  You and your father have always allowed her to make her own decisions, and she –“

        “Will accept it and move on.”

        Gaston snorted.  “Did you ingest a spoonful of delusion with your morning tea, highness?”

        Lucern looked to his friend in surprise at the title with which he rarely addressed him, ignoring the snark altogether.  “She will do what is best for the kingdom, for the crown.”

        “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

       

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh Lucern is such a little shit! But, apparently, Gaz has their back :D and bunnies and goats and Rumbelle oh my. I loved writing this chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Next chapter (which will be up on 10/23) … Lucern’s indecision causes a rift in his relationship with his wife, Belle feels guilty and our spinner puts her mind at ease. Cryptic enough? See you Friday!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is for my friend Twyla, who always sends me the most lovely ideas to spark my muse :D Thank you, darling. I know this isn’t teaching her to spin, but it’s the next best thing … I think. *hugs*

        “Good evening, darling.  How was your bath?” Lyssa asked as her husband stormed into their apartments and headed straight to the cut crystal decanter of plum brandy.  She arched a brow, her lips forming into a moue of displeasure.  It wasn’t often her husband turned to drink to soothe his nerves.  “Would you care to talk about it?”

        He offered her a wan smile that didn’t match the turmoil brewing in his cerulean eyes.  Taking his refilled tumbler with him, he moved to sit on the settee at her side where she was going through a crate of books Belle had sent when she’d finished with them.  His wife was slowly going through them, sorting them into piles according to genre.  “Belle finished with these rather earlier than I’d thought she would.  Well, it’s no surprise since she didn’t come down to dinner … again,” he grumbled.

        Lyssa flipped her long blond braid over her shoulder and leaned back into his embrace, resting her head beneath his chin.  “It’s a good thing the two of you differ in your tastes for reading material.”  Belle had always favored romance and adventure over Lucern’s desire for a good war story or mystery.  “There are still plenty from which to choose.  Now do tell me what’s wrong.  What has you so upset, my husband?”

        The prince took a long swallow of his brandy and hummed noncommittally before pressing a kiss to her temple.  “Sweetling … what do you think of my sister’s servant?

        _Uh oh!_   Lyssa peeked at him from beneath her lashes, guardedly studying his troubled visage.  “I find Rumpelstiltskin to be a very kind and loving father to his son and a wonderful friend to Belle, especially now that he’s somewhat come out of his shell.  Why do you ask?”

        “Do you … ah … think he’s the sort of man who would woo her for his own personal gain?”

        “Lucern, just what are you getting at?” she asked suspiciously, leaning away from him to meet his gaze.

        Her husband drained his glass and set it on the end table before crossing his arms sulkily over his chest.  “Nothing.”

        “Lucern!  Explain yourself.  I weary of your hedging.”

        He winced, hating himself for upsetting his beloved.  “He kissed her,” he mumbled petulantly.  “I went to her rose garden to ask why she’d had father order livestock for her and I came upon him kissing her.”

        “What?!” she squeaked, her hazel eyes flaring wide as her lips turned up into a radiant grin.  “He finally kissed her?!”

        “What do you mean _finally_?” he roared.

        “Darling, she’s in love with him.  I think she has been since before they arrived home.  Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way she looks at him.”

        “Frankly, no,” he said dryly, his brows meeting low over his eyes in his irritation.  “Why am I the only one who thinks this is a scandal in the making?”  He looked at her warily.  “I suppose father knows as well?”

        Lyssa shook her head.  “No, papa’s still oblivious, dear.”

        “Thank the gods for small favors,” he quipped, resting his head against the back of the settee.  “Lyssa … I’ve failed her.”

        “You have not!  She adores you; she always has,” she protested, taking his hands into her own and giving a reassuring squeeze.

        He stared into the dying embers glowing in the hearth and closed his eyes.  “Perhaps I should arrange for her to marry.  She’s twenty five years old, sweetling.  She needs a family of her own.”

        “I don’t think she and Rumpelstiltskin are quite ready to take that step in their relationship.”

        He refused to meet her gaze.  “I wasn’t talking about her servant.”

        Lyssa gasped, rising slowly to her feet.  “You wouldn’t … Lucern, you can’t!  To force her to marry – and believe me, dear, you _would_ be forcing her – it would destroy her.  Every bit of faith she’s ever held for you, husband … gone forever.  Not to mention she would hate you for it.”

        Lucern scrubbed his hands over his face as he watched her pace in agitation before the stone hearth.  “Lyssa, love …” he whined.  “… he’s a bloody peasant.  He’s not a suitable candidate for my sister’s hand.”

        His no nonsense wife snorted, her eyes shooting daggers at him.  “You didn’t think I would make an acceptable wife for you, if I seem to recall,” she replied lowly, quiet menace in her voice daring him to argue.

        “You were dressed in armor on a steed much too big for you and I had just taken your lance to my chest!” he scoffed.  A small curl of her lips showed him she was amused by the memory of their first meeting.  He rose from the settee and moved to her side, slipping his arms about her waist to pull her against his chest.

        She nuzzled against his throat, humming softly.  “Well, I couldn’t very well allow Edmund, that dolt, to barter my hand in a joust and then trust him to win.  Imagine what would have happened if he’d lost me to Earl Grimmold,” she shuddered.

        “Your brother isn’t such a bad sort, love.  However, his lack of expertise at dice is another matter altogether.  Shouldn’t be allowed to gamble, that one,” he chuckled, his breath warm against her ear.  “I’m quite pleased that you’re proficient with a lance.”

        Lyssa arched a perfectly manicured golden brow in his direction.  “You weren’t pleased at the time.  Neither was my father when you called me out on the field.  But don’t you see, husband?  As the daughter of a lesser knight with a propensity to take risks, I wasn’t suitable to be _your_ consort.”

        Lucern sighed.  He _had_ been worried about her habit of running about in tight leather breeches, gallivanting all over creation without mind for the consequences and he had knights in his retinue who didn’t joust nearly half as well as his beloved.  But he’d gotten over it.  His love for her had won out over any misgivings he’d had and it had been another battle to win her hand, this one with proper wooing and a torrid courtship.  He had no regrets.  She took her place at his side, charmed his people and best of all … she loved him with her whole heart.  But could he allow the same for his sister?

        “You were different.  At least you were noble.”

        “And you, my love, are a snob.”  She pushed out of his arms, taking advantage of his distraction.  “I don’t think I want to share your bed, this evening … it might be a bit crowded with your ego, after all,” she snickered.  “I think it’s rather unfair you should take the choice from her hands simply because she’s a woman.”

        “Lyssa … that’s not it at all!”

        “Goodnight, Lucern.”

        “But, Lyssa …”

        She paused at the door which adjoined her bedchamber to his and chanced a glance over her shoulder.  “Pleasant dreams, dear.  I hope your sleep is untroubled … no visions of your precious sister – who has finally found true happiness with her spinner – looking at you with naught but betrayal in her eyes.”

        Lucern dropped wearily into a chair as he watched her flounce out of the door and close it with a deafening click of the latch, indecision weighing heavily upon his broad shoulders.    

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin placed the last spool of thread in the wicker basket and set it aside.  Hopefully, tomorrow afternoon, he’d be able to slip off to the spinning and weaving rooms in the west wing to dye them.  His mistress made sure his supply of wool was never depleted – another of her many gifts to him since he’d become her servant – and he made sure he put it to good use.  Now, in the wee hours of the morning, he continued to spin when really, he should be sleeping.  Instead, he busily went about the task of making a gift of his own to present to his lady. 

        Though embroidery wasn’t her favorite past time, she sometimes needed to keep her hands busy when forced to spend time with the ladies in her father’s court.  The spinners employed by the king made adequate thread, but it was by no means the same quality as his own.  And perhaps with some of his own dying techniques, he could produce a larger variety of color to add to her samplers.  Just something to show her how much he appreciated her never-ending generosity.

        If the task could also give his mind a measure of peace, all the better.  It wouldn’t do to dwell on _the kiss_.  That was easier said than done, however.  What could she have been thinking to ask him for such a thing?  He groaned as he overlapped another handful of wool with the leader and holding them taught as he gave the wheel a slow spin.  What had _he_ been thinking to agree?  Every time he closed his eyes, he could still imagine clearly the way she’d looked at him, her eyes heavily lidded with some unknown emotion alight in their depths.  He remembered the feel of her lips pressed so softly to his, her taste, the feel of her skin as he cradled her cheek in his hand.  And he was going to go mad with wanting more.

        He forced himself to keep the tension in the thread as he lost himself in thoughts of his recurring dream.  More and more often he was visited by images of them entangled in mussed sheets, her sweet voice whispering in his ear of how she loved him, how she desired only him as his body sought her welcoming heat, filling her over and over until she screamed his name.  Oh, there were others where he would dream of the three of them, settled in a cottage by the sea, a loving family, but it didn’t leave him shaking as he woke.  That one didn’t fill him with an ache so deep he could feel it to his very soul.

        And that’s all they were … dreams.  He’d never have her look on him the way she did in his midnight forays into slumber. He released the thread and raked a hand through his hair, cursing himself for defiling his mistress – if only in his mind – after everything she’d done for him.  He was a horrid, wretched little man, not fit to kiss her dainty toes.  He groaned at the thought, an errant shiver of lust tingling along his spine. Spinning – his usual escape when he couldn’t sleep – wasn’t helping in the least to quell his desires that evening.

        “Rumpel?” came her soft voice from the doorway.  He always left it open a crack so he could hear her should she call for him in the night.  Belle poked her head hesitantly around the opening, her bleary gaze searching him out.  Her voice sounded strange and he noticed a redness about the corners of her eyes as if she’d been crying.  “I saw your light.  May I come in?”

        “Of course, mistress,” he replied, reaching for his cane to rise, but she hurried to his side, her hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat.  “What is it?  Should I fetch some tea?”

        “N-No … no tea.”  She shook her head, her lower lip wobbling.  “M-May I sit with you?  I just don’t want to be alone right now.”  Dropping to her knees, she curled up between his feet, her cheek coming to rest against his thigh as she drew in a deep stuttering breath.  She couldn’t help but notice the tension in his body, but he didn’t push her away.

        Belle had been withdrawn and melancholy through most of the afternoon and into the dinner hour, touching little of the food she shared with them.  Even reading to Baelfire before bed had seemed a bit shorter that evening and she’d retreated to her room without even a ‘goodnight’ for him.  Tossing and turning in her big bed had only succeeded in making her body ache, until she’d finally gathered her courage to seek out her servant to offer him the apology he so richly deserved.  Yet now, humbled at his feet, she had difficulty forming the words, another tear trickling lazily from the corner of her eye.

        Rumpelstiltskin reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering briefly over the crown of her head before stroking his fingers through her tousled curls.  “Belle, dearie, please … what has you so distressed this evening?  I can’t help you if you don’t confide in me,” he murmured soothingly.  Unease vibrated just below his skin, all manner of worries plaguing his mind.  Had he upset her in some way?  Was she dissatisfied with him to the point where she was ready to send him away?

        Her hands wrapped themselves about his leg, her fingers gently caressing the white tracery of scars on his ankle revealed by his calf-length cotton trousers.  “I fear I have wronged you, my Rumpel.  I’m so sorry,” she whispered brokenly, her tears soaking into the soft material covering his thighs.

        Nothing she could have said would have surprised him more.  “Whatever are you talking about?  You’ve done no such thing,” he protested, his fingers slipping beneath her chin to tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

        “I did, Rumpel.  I took away your choice,” she said, guiltily lowering her eyes so she couldn’t see his rejection when he realized what she’d done.

        Rumpelstiltskin fought back his frustration and drew in a deep breath.  There was no use in arguing with her as stubborn as she could be.  “Tell me how you _think_ you’ve taken away my choice,” he demanded with a patience he hadn’t known he possessed.

        Belle turned to face him fully, her arms slipping about his waist as she buried her nose against his belly.  “I made you kiss me … to thank me.  I shouldn’t have done that.  You shouldn’t have felt obligated to kiss me, Rumpel, and I know you only did it because you have this need to repay me for gifts – which is completely insane when I give them to you from my heart – “ she hurried to explain, some of her words becoming lost as she tightened her grip upon him.  “But I wanted you to kiss me so _badly_ , and I didn’t think … and now I feel wretched to have forced you.  I just care for you so deeply, Rumpelstiltskin, and I – “  A broken little sob escaped her trembling lips as she finally looked up to meet his gaze to find his eyes moist, his lips parted as he stared incredulously at her.  “I don’t ever want you to kiss me because you see it as an obligation … but because you want me.”

        His mind – as well as his heart – stuttered to a halt at her words.  She cared for him?  She _cared_ for him.  _She_ cared for _him_!!  Deeply.  It was hard for him to focus on her lovely upturned face as tears gathered in his eyes.  “Say it again?” he whispered, surprised he could utter a word in his astonishment.

        “Which part?”

        “The … ah … the part where you said you care for me.”

        Her cheeks flamed a becoming shade of pink.  She’d been in such a rush to apologize, she hadn’t realized she’d revealed her true feelings.  Yet that didn’t stop her lips from curling into a hesitant smile.  She nuzzled against his palm as he cradled her face in his warm palms.  “I do, Rum.  I care for you so deeply.  Please forgive me for taking advantage?”

        Rumpelstiltskin pressed his brow to hers, his nose bumping hers affectionately.  “I wanted to kiss my, my darling princess,” he whispered, his breath warm against her lips, and all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her again.  “Can’t you see that I care for you too?”

        “You do?” she queried, hope strong in her voice.

        “Aye, dearie, I do,” he admitted sadly.  “But what good will it do us when you will eventually have to marry?  It is futile to give in to our feelings when you will someday have a husband to share your life with.”

        “No,” she sobbed, fisting her hands in his shirt over his chest.  “No.”

        “It is your duty, Belle,” he sighed dejectedly.  “And then you won’t need me anymore.”

        Her arms slid over his shoulders to wrap themselves about his neck.  “I’ll have no one but you.  I’ll _always_ need you.”

        The spinner held her tightly as she wept against the crook of his neck, helpless to her tears and not knowing how to make her understand that he’d give anything to fulfill her every desire.  But she had a duty to her kingdom, to her family.  They’d never accept her wish to be joined to a humble peasant.  “Hush, little dearie, it’s alright.”  He pulled her up from her knees and set a stool between his feet, settling her upon it and pulling her back into the circle of his arms.

        “Will you stay with me?” she whispered sleepily. 

        “For as long as I’m able.”

        Belle gazed up at him through half lidded eyes.  “No.  If there wasn’t a contract between us … would you stay with me of your own free will?  Not because of Baelfire and the advantages he receives as my ward, but because you want to be here … with me?”

        His long elegant spinner’s fingers delved deeply into the curls behind her right ear as he pressed a feather-light kiss to her quivering lips.  “I never want to be parted from you for any reason, my Belle.” Just as quickly as her face lit up with pleasure, her smile died with his next words.  “But what we want and what shall be are two very different things.  Your family will never allow you to be with me … and if you knew of my past, you wouldn’t want to be with me either.  I’m a coward,” he croaked, his voice heavy with emotion.  “I always have been, Belle.  And if you could somehow look past that, it doesn’t change the fact that I am a peasant and _you_ are a princess.  It’s impossible --”

        “You’re not a coward and I’ll not have you speak of yourself in such a manner.”

        “Belle …” he sighed.

        Belle snorted, some of her courage returning and making itself known.  “We live in a land of magic, Rumpel.  Nothing is impossible.”

        “Fairies are like to fly out of your brother’s arse before he would ever consent to a match between you and I, dearie.”

        Belle’s lips curled up in a devilish smile as she nestled against his chest, her heart light for the first time since that afternoon.  “Then isn’t it wonderful that I have an ace up my sleeve?  It will come in most handy when I speak to Lucern.”

        “Belle …” he cautioned, worried that he’d be marched to the gallows once her brother discovered his feelings for the princess.

        “Are you sure, Rumpel?  Will you let me love you and share my life with you?” she asked as his face screwed up into a painful grimace, his doubts and fears evident.  “We can be a family and be free to love one another.  Isn’t our future happiness worth the gamble?”

        His fingers traced along the smooth curve of her cheek to tap gently against the corner of her petal soft lips.  “And what if I’m not skilled enough to play the game?”

        She closed the distance between them, her fingers tangling in the ends of his hair as her lips brushed softly against his.  “I’m more than willing to teach you.  All you have to do is say yes.”

        Rumpelstiltskin watched in awe as she drew his contract from the pocket of her dressing gown and pressed it into his hand.  Five years, or a lifetime with his beloved girl.  It was his choice.  He could hand it back to her and remain her servant, or he could risk his heart, his life and his future – a future filled with happiness – and tear the parchment asunder.  “Are you sure, Belle?” it was his turn to ask.

        “I love you,” she whispered, everything she felt so deeply in her heart shining brightly in her eyes.

        He wrapped his arms more securely about her, the parchment clasped between his fingers tearing and fluttering to the rug at their feet.  “Aye, dearie … I love you too.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Hope was a fickle bitch, Rumpelstiltskin thought as he made his way down to the kitchens for Belle’s morning tea and scones.  It was bad enough that he was getting strange looks from those he met in the corridors.  Either he was smiling like the village idiot, or nearly in a state of panic, his emotions nothing more than a whirlwind of indecision.  Hope warred with fear inside him until he was a nervous wreck.  Joy that his Belle loved him … _him!_ … _loved_ him! … panic that her brother would see him as a threat and remove him from the kingdom entirely … hope that he and Belle and Bae could indeed be a family … elation that he was now free to hold her in his arms … at least when they were alone.

        He was very nearly out of breath by the time he reached the cavernous kitchens.  His beloved had fallen asleep on the stool at his spinning wheel, wrapped in the comfort and safety of his arms and he’d quickly followed, never having felt more at peace.  His body ached from having slept in such an awkward position, but it had been worth it.  Thankfully, his son had woken him before Bethany had arrived to rouse the princess.

        _“Papa!” the boy had whispered loudly right next to his ear.  “Why are you sleeping with Belle?  Is som’thin’ wrong with her bed?  Was there a frog under the covers?”_

_“No, Bae, last I checked, Horace was in his terrarium,” he murmured around a huge yawn.  “Belle and I were simply talking and we_ _… ah_ _… we fell asleep, I suppose.”_

_Baelfire rubbed sleepily at his eyes, trying to dislodge the sand which crusted the corners.  “It’s ok, papa, I fall asleep in your lap all the time.  I’m hungry, though.  Can we go see if Mrs. Potts has sticky buns this mornin’?”_

_The spinner’s brows disappeared beneath the fringe of his shaggy hair.  Leave it to his son to think more about his stomach than the sleeping princess in his father’s arms.  “Of course, son.  Let me_ _… um_ _… see to Belle first and then I’ll see about a treat for you.  Why don’t you choose what you’ll wear today for our outing, yeah?”_

_Belle’s arms tightened about his waist as he roused her, burying her face against the crook of his neck.  “Rum,” she yawned.  “Need more sleep.”_

_“Yes, dearie,” he chuckled softly, dropping a kiss to her brow. “Let’s see you back to your bed so you can doze a little longer, shall we?”_

_She didn’t protest, not even when he risked pain and discomfort in his mangled ankle to carry her back to her own room and lay her down gently beneath the wrinkled duvet.  A smile had curved her lips as she snuggled down into her down pillow and rolled over with a contented sigh.  He’d dressed quickly upon returning to his room and was just in time to warn Bethany as she made to enter her lady’s room._

_“Good morning, Rumpel.”_

_He returned the greeting.  “Our mistress had trouble sleeping last night, Beth.  Please allow her to sleep at least until I return with her tea.”_

_“Is she ill,” the maid asked worriedly._

_“No, just tired.  She had a lot on her mind and couldn’t find peace enough to sleep.  I’m sure she’ll be fine with another hour or so of rest.”_

Mrs. Potts smiled warmly at him as he entered the kitchen and took a seat on a stool at her work station.  “Good morning, dear,” she greeted him, her smile slipping as she noticed the tired lines about his eyes.  “Oh, you didn’t rest well, did you?  What have I told you about staying up all night spinning?”

        “ _A good servant does not perform well without proper sleep_.  Yes, ma’am, I remember.  I just had a lot on my mind,” he said with a half-moon grin as he sipped his tea.

        She set a sticky bun before him, the aroma of sugar and spicy cinnamon teasing his nose.  “And did you sort yourself out, or would you like to talk about it?”

        “Aye, it sorted itself out, actually.”

        “Sometimes it happens that way.  Well, hopefully you’ll be able to sleep tonight, dear.”  She rested her hand atop his where it lay upon the table.  “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?”

        He ducked his head sheepishly, a warm blush tinting his cheeks.  For some reason he couldn’t fathom, the kindly matron who ruled the kitchens had taken an instant liking for him, treating him as if he were a beloved son instead of a mere servant.  It was more than he’d gotten from his own mother, who’d died when he was a wee babe.  He cared for the older woman, easily accepting her doting affection.  In a lot of ways she reminded him of his maiden aunts who’d raised him.  “I do, ma’am … and I will should I find myself in need.”

        Mrs. Potts nodded before her attention was needed elsewhere.  “Lazy girls!” she scolded, bustling off towards the end of the table where two scullery maids and her sous chef were standing idly, staring at Rumpelstiltskin appreciatively.  "Off with the lot of you, now … standing about ogling the princess’s servant when there’s work to be done!”

        Melinda got a sharp rap on the knuckles with Mrs. Potts’ wooden spoon, protesting loudly.  “Ouch!” she cried, rubbing her sore hand.  “I can’t help it!  It’s those bloody pants he wears.”

        “Off with you before I have you scrubbing pots and pans all day!”

        Rumpelstiltskin buried his head in his hands in embarrassment.  He wasn’t dressed any differently than he usually was, today having chosen a fine white lawn shirt and forest green waistcoat.  He’d need to fetch his riding jacket before meeting with Bae’s friend, but he didn’t see what the fuss was about.

        Mrs. Potts mumbled under her breath as she placed two large sticky buns on the tea tray and turned to hand it to him.  “This should tide her highness and young master Bae over until breakfast.”

        The spinner frowned as he noticed their usual breakfast tray hadn’t been prepared.  “Mrs. Potts, where _is_ her breakfast tray?  It’s not like you not to have it ready by now.”

        The woman gave him a curious look.  “Didn’t you know?  The prince sent word that Lady Belle would be dining with him this morning.  I’m surprised you hadn’t received the summons before you came down.”

        “Perhaps the messenger was delayed,” he mumbled, feeling the color leech from his face.  He dazedly wished her a good day and left the kitchen, wondering why the prince had summoned his sister.  She made a point to dine with him at breakfast on Monday and Thursday and this was neither, it being Wednesday.

        His stomach protested the meager breakfast he’d eaten as he thought of Lucern and what this summons could mean.  He sent up a quick prayer to no less than four deities he knew of that the prince wouldn’t upset Belle … because she had every intention of upsetting her twin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, what did you think? I wonder if Lucern will take the news well. We’ll just have to wait and see I suppose :D Were you happy with their relationship moving forward? There’s still so much I want to do in this verse. Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed it!!
> 
> Next week (the update is still in progress so this is what I’m hoping for) Lucern receives startling news and Rumpelstiltskin asks the king for permission to court the princess.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!

 

        “Baelfire!  Get that rabbit out of Belle’s bed.  You’re going to infest the place with fleas,” Rumpelstiltskin admonished lightly, shaking his head.  His gaze flitted to his mistress to see that she was smiling at the boy _and_ the bunny, and was able to breathe a sigh of relief that he hadn’t disturbed her meager rest.  He hurried to set the heavy tray down, blushing when he noticed her smile had brightened and transferred to him.

        “Is it time to feed them, papa?” Bae asked as he hopped off the large bed and pulled the bunny back into his arms.  “Can I do it?”

        “Bethany is tidying up in the sitting room.  Why don’t you have her help you while I have my tea, darling,” Belle said behind a huge yawn as she propped herself up on her pillows.  “But don’t dawdle so you can have your sticky bun, alright?”

        “Yes, ma’am!” he called, running off to find the maid.

        Belle did some blushing of her own as she accepted her cup from Rumpelstiltskin.  “Good morning, Rum,” she said lowly, setting her cup aside and biting hesitantly on her lip as she reached for him, her fingers closing over his wrist and urging him to sit beside her.

        He glanced over his shoulder to where his son had disappeared before perching on the edge of the mattress.  “I shouldn’t … Bae –“

        “--will be fine.  Besides, you’re just sitting with me,” she replied with a coy grin.  She tugged him closer, letting her fingers trail along his cheek.  “It’s not as though you’ve kissed me or anything.  I -”

        His lips closed over hers, giving in to the desire to kiss her teasing mouth.  “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” he whispered fervently as he lingered a moment to press his brow to hers.  Before she could call him back, he’d risen and moved to fetch her pitcher.  “Don’t tarry, m’lady.  It seems you’ve received a summons from your brother.”

        Belle rolled her eyes as she watched him heat water over the hearth for her morning toilette.  “I know; Beth told me,” she grumbled, picking apart her sticky bun with a lack of enthusiasm.  “Rum, why are you still acting like my servant?  The contract –“

        “I will remain your servant for as long as necessary,” he insisted.  “You have no idea what the prince might do if he learned you tore up the contract.”

        “You’re worried, aren’t you?” she asked, leaving her bed to stand beside him.

        “How can I not be worried, Belle?” he said in a furious whisper.  “Without your precious contract – which I must have been absolutely mad to have destroyed last night – they can remove me from the palace … never to see you or my son again.”  He brought his hand up to his chest to cover his heart.  “Belle, without you and Bae, I will truly … truly become dust.  I can’t lose either of you.”

        Belle wrapped her arms about his shoulders and burrowed against the crook of his neck.  “Stop thinking like that, my love,” she whispered, kneading gently at his name.  “I won’t let my family send you away, Rumpel.  I love you.  My place is with you.”

        Rumpelstiltskin strengthened his resolve as she pressed her little body to his, fitting his perfectly in all the right places as if she had been made specifically with him in mind.  “I think I need to speak with your father.”

        Her eyes widened.  “Are you sure?”

        “If we’re going to do this properly, yes.  I need to declare my intentions,” he said, taking a deep breath to quieten his thunderous heartbeat.  “This is for you and Bae.  I won’t let my fear deny you something you want as badly as I want it for myself.”

       

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle had Thorrin take Baelfire to the main dining hall to eat with his friends as she and Rumpelstiltskin joined Lucern, Lyssa and the king on the east terrace.  It wouldn’t do for the child to hear such frightful language as was sure to spew forth from her brother’s mouth.  She cast a furtive glance up at her dear spinner, her lips curving happily as she took note of the firm set of his jaw.  She’d never seen him quite so resolute.  His confidence had slowly built over the past month and a half as he became used to life in Avonlea, but it was her declaration of love that had given him the final push.  Or at least she hoped.

        She pulled him to a stop outside the salon, ignoring the guards stationed to protect the king.  “Are you alright?  You haven’t spoken a word since we left our apartments.”

        He leaned heavily upon his cane, the light of anguish undiminished in his eyes no matter how hard he tried to banish it.  “I h-have …” he sucked in a ragged breath.  “I have to do this, Belle … no matter the cost.”  He lifted her hand, his lips brushing ever so softly over her knuckles.  “I do love you, my Belle.  I have always coveted you, wanted you … but I knew I loved you when you begged me so sweetly for my friendship that night of the feast.  I knew then I’d fight for you with my dying breath.”  He huffed a bitter laugh.  “If I can manage to stop quaking in my boots.”

        Belle hid her grin from the guards behind her hand.  “You’re braver than you think, darling.”

        Rumpelstiltskin just wished it were all over so he could take her riding with Bae and his friend, to escape the castle for fresh air and sunshine.  Yet, wanting and wishing weren’t helping when he still had to face the king.  “Easy for you to say, dearie.  You’re not off to face the gallows.”

        Gaston met them – nearly bowling them over – as they entered the room, a devilish smile curling his lips and showing almost all of his pearly white teeth.  “Oh, hell!” Belle cursed under her breath so only Rumpelstiltskin could hear her.  “Gaz, I’m in no mood for your pranks today.”

        He fell into step beside her.  “What about a little gossip?”

        That brought her up short and had her narrow-eyed gaze focusing on him.  “What sort of gossip?  This better not be about some tart you met over dinner last night, Gaz.”

        “Actually, no.”  The knight’s footsteps slowed as he cast her a level look.  “Lucern saw you kissing your spinner in the garden yesterday.  Just thought you’d like to know.  Forewarned is forearmed, after all,” he grinned.

        Belle groaned.  “Wonderful.  He should just be in a lovely mood,” she whispered dryly.  “What did he say?”

        “Here’s a better question for you, m’dear … why don’t you look more worried?” the knight asked, losing some of his jovial humor.

        A sigh escaped her slightly parted lips as they quirked up into a smile.  “I know Lucern better than I think he knows himself, Gaz.  I know he would never do anything to harm me or make me unhappy, and because I know this, I am better able to have him deal fairly with me.”

        He glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder at her servant before he shrugged.  “He’s not happy about your interest in the spinner, Belle.”

        “It’s not his place to be concerned.”  At his dubious look, she amended her statement.  “Alright, it might be his concern … somewhat.”

        Gaston huffed a short laugh until her dark scowl settled upon him.  “Just remember that he loves you and only has your best interests at heart.”

        And then there was no more time for their quiet discussion as her father came forward to greet her.  “Sweetheart, you look radiant this morning.  Going riding after breakfast?” he asked, gathering her close to his barrel chest to embrace her warmly.

        Belle kissed her father’s ruddy cheek and smiled.  “Yes.  Bae was invited to go on a jaunt with Lord Myerson’s boy.  It will do him good to be out in the sunshine.”  She turned to her brother and greeted him.  “Good morning, Luc … er … what’s wrong?  You look weary.  Did you not sleep?” she asked, cupping his cheek in her palm as she studied him carefully.  “And where is Lyssa?”

        The prince’s visage darkened as he ducked his head.  A visible tick in his jaw alerted her to his upset.  “She begged off … claiming a headache.”

        Rumpelstiltskin pulled out the princess’s chair and seated her before turning to the king.  “Sire, I hate t-to intrude, but might I have a word before Mrs. Potts has your breakfast brought i-in?”

        Maurice paused next to the chair he’d been about to slip into, casting curious looks between his daughter and her servant, a slow grin forming on his mouth.  He could see something had changed between them.  The rosy blush and secretive gleam in Belle’s eyes was enough to tell him that.  “Alright, my lad,” he nodded, gesturing over to the stone railing. 

        “What was all that about?” Lucern asked casually as he waited for a servant to pour tea into cups for himself and his sister.

        “Why is Lyssa angry with you?” Belle countered, entering into the game her brother wanted to play with ease.

        “Why would you think she was angry at me?” His eyes, so like her own, narrowed over the rim of his cup.

        She tapped her nails against the side of the porcelain.  “Lucky guess?”  A smirk crooked her lips up at one corner of her mouth.  “Tell me, brother … shall we be getting to the point soon?  I do weary of hedging.  Let’s up the ante, shall we?”

        Lucern slammed the flat of his hand against the table.  “This isn’t a game, sister dear,” he hissed, his eyes flashing hotly.

        Belle lifted one perfect auburn brow, her face otherwise betraying no emotion as her poker mein settled into place.  He wanted to play did he?  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Luc.”

        He sat back in his chair and rubbed the back of his fingers along his chin as he regarded her, letting her stew a moment in silence before he spoke.  “I saw you, Belle … _kiss_ your servant.”

        She pursed her lips in a moue of irritation.  “Spying on me now, brother?  How uncouth.”

        “Would you care to explain yourself?”

        “There’s nothing to explain.  I’ve never had difficulty showing affection to someone I love.”

        The color leeched from his face, his lips parting in surprise to hear her admit what Gaston had revealed to him yesterday.  He glanced to where his friend stood guard near the double doors and groaned.  Why’d he have to be right?  Was he the only person in the entire palace who hadn’t noticed his sister was falling in love with her peasant servant? Guh!  “So it’s true?  You’ve fallen in love with the spinner?”

        “I have,” she said, her eyes warming as her gaze sought out Rumpelstiltskin where he was speaking to her father.  “And he loves me too.”

        “Of course he does,” the prince growled.  “How could he not?”

        Belle flushed at the back-handed compliment.  She knew her brother loved her and only wanted the best for her.  Which was why she was trying so valiantly to hold onto her waning patience.

        “But how do you know he doesn’t just want you for your wealth and title?” he added.

        She took another sip of her tea, the hand in her lap balling tightly into a fist.  “What a lovely thing to say about me, Luc.  Are you suggesting those things are my only attributes?  That no man would want me for myself?  Why not go ahead and insult my table manners and diplomacy while you’re at it, dear?”

        “That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

        “Lower your tone.  I will not tolerate your beastly shouting this morning,” she admonished without raising her own voice.

        He settled back into his seat and gnashed his teeth.  “Perhaps it’s time you marry, Belle,” he said, laying his metaphorical cards on the table.  “It’s past time actually.”

        “For once, we agree.”

        Lucern’s brows disappeared somewhere near his hairline.  “You … er … we do?” he asked in surprise.  For some reason, he hadn’t thought it would be that easy to get her to agree.

        Belle nodded, grinning mischievously down into her cup.  “Indeed.”

        “That’s wonderful.  I can have a list of prospective suitors complied and invite them to the palace – “

        Her tinkling laughter rang across the terrace.  “And why would you want to do that when the only man I will ever accept as a ‘prospective suitor’ is already here.”

        Lucern glared at her.  “No.”

        “No?  Did you just flat out refuse me?” she demanded, some of her good humor slipping.  “Only papa has the right to deny me, Lucern.  Or have you simply decided to disregard our contract?”

        His upper lip curled back over his teeth, but he kept his voice calm.  “Belle, I don’t want to see you marry a peasant!  You’re a princess for fuck’s sake.”

        “Language, brother.”  Belle pulled a rolled scroll from the pocket of her midnight blue riding habit and set it on the table between them. 

        “You brought it with you?!” he groaned.

        “Yes, and apparently you already know what it contains, and you could certainly use the reminder. Shall I go over it again, anyway?  It has been a while since we’ve looked at it.”  She smiled in the face of his rage.  “Section two, paragraph one states … I, Belle, High Princess and by right of birth, heir to the throne of Avonlea and its holdings, do hereby refuse the crown so that Lucern, High Prince will rule in direct succession at such time as our father, King Maurice, decides to step down.”  She pushed the scroll closer to him as she pointed to the passage.  “It also states that I will be allowed to choose my own husband.  It doesn’t however state that he cannot be a peasant, Luc.”

        “Belle –“

        “That is your signature, is it not?”

        “Yes, but –“

        “Lucern, dear, you’re taking this rather badly, aren’t you?  Why can’t you simply be happy for me?”  She waved a servant forward to pour more tea as she watched her brother from beneath her long lashes.  “I don’t know why you’re so upset.  Upon my marriage, I inherit Dunsmore castle.  Rumpel, Bae and I can settle quite happily there and you won’t have to deal with my spinner.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “So what can I do to help you, lad?” the king asked, bracing his hands against the balustrade.  The kingdom was coming alive below, knights on the training field, merchants at the distant port as ships were loaded for export and the shops in the village opening for business.  He knew what his daughter’s servant wanted.  Actually it was surprising that he’d taken so long to come to him.  It was no secret they’d been dancing around one another from the beginning, and he’d never seen Belle so taken with a man. 

        Maurice thought if Rumpelstiltskin had somehow captured Belle’s heart, he couldn’t deny them despite the man’s humble origins.  That could be easily fixed.  What mattered most was the princess’s happiness … and lots of grandchildren for the king to dote on.

        The spinner leaned heavily upon his cane, a lump the size of a pomegranate lodged in his throat as he met the king’s clear blue gaze.  “Um … well, s-sire …”

        Maurice reached out and clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner meant to put him at ease.  “Spit it out, son.  There’s nothing to fear from me, I assure you,” he encouraged, smiling gently.  He remembered his own experiences with Colette and how difficult it had been to ask permission to court her.  It didn’t help that the spinner was more than a bit on the timid side.

        Rumpelstiltskin swallowed convulsively, cleared his throat and still nothing would leave his mouth.  He felt as if he were going to be sick.  “I-I … “ he stammered.  “Iwouldlikepermissiontocourtyourdaughter!”

        Maurice blinked owlishly.  “I beg your pardon?” the king asked, not having understood a single word the spinner had said in his rush to get the syllables past his teeth and frozen lips.

        He choked back a whimper and squared his shoulders.  “I would like permission to court your daughter, sire.  I know I’m probably not what you wanted for Belle, but I _do_ love her.  My heart is all I really have to give her … and I know that’s not really what you want to hear from a suitor for her hand … but I can assure you she would never be without love.  She is my whole world … she and Baelfire, and –“

        The king chuckled.  “Are you trying to convince me, lad, or yourself?”

        Rumpelstiltskin stared blankly at Belle’s father for a long moment before coming back to himself, his heart picking up speed.  “No!  No, I’m quite sure I love her!  I did try not to, sire … I knew it was impossible for someone like her to … well, I knew it was wrong, but … I couldn’t help myself, your majesty.”

        “And does she love you in return?”

        He nodded.  “She assures me she does.”  He dropped his gaze to his feet.  “If you will not give me permission to court her … please let me continue to serve her.  Don’t send me away.”

        Maurice frowned, wondering what the poor man must have suffered in his lifetime to be able to humble himself before his king so easily.  He looked over at his daughter, for once pleased that she was quibbling with her brother and didn’t have to see her spinner in such a state.  “Relax, son.  No one is going to send you away from your mistress.”

        A tremulous smile formed on his mouth as some of the tension eased from his shoulders.  “Thank you, sire.”

        “Very well, Rumpelstiltskin.  I will grant you permission to court my daughter.”

        “You –“ the spinner gasped.  “Really?”

        “Yes, lad.  It’s Belle’s choice, but I am thankful all the same that you respect me enough to ask.”  He clapped the man on the back and led him back to the table.  “Now can we eat? I’m starving.  And I think it’s about time we join them before Belle stabs her brother with her butter knife.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle cast anxious eyes at her father as he and Rumpelstiltskin rejoined them at the table.  He was smiling … but when wasn’t her father smiling about something or other.  He was just an all-around jovial person.  But surely that was a good sign, right?  Her poor love looked as if he were barely holding himself together as he moved to take his usual position behind her chair.  Lucern shot him a dark look out of her line of sight, still suspicious of the man’s motives.

        The king took his seat at the head of the table, ignoring his children long enough to clap his hands and signal the servants to begin serving the morning meal.  “Rumpelstiltskin, join us,” the king boomed, garnering surprised looks from Belle and Lucern.  “Since your circumstances will be changing, it would behoove you to sit with us so we may discuss the matter.”

        Belle held out her hand to him, urging him forward to the chair at her right.  She beamed at him.  “Come, dear, it’s alright.  You’ve papa’s invitation.”

        “Papa, he’s a servant,” Lucern gritted out between his clenched teeth.

        “And you’re a snob, Luc,” Belle sneered, pouring tea into a cup for Rumpelstiltskin.  She leaned close, concerned with the small tremors in his hands which caused the cup to rattle noisily on its saucer.  “Are you alright, Rum?  Was papa receptive to what you wished to speak with him about?”

        “Yes, daughter, I was,” Maurice said, as he ladled eggs onto his plate.  “Rumpelstiltskin has formally requested permission to court you.”  He chuckled as she cast him a blinding smile.  “And I can see you are more than pleased that I’ve given my consent.”

        “Yes!  Thank you, papa, I -“ she gushed enthusiastically, turning to kiss Rumpel on the cheek.  “Is this what you were up to this morning?”

        He nodded shyly.  “I wanted to do right by you, my love.”

        “Oh, you didn’t,” Lucern groaned, tipping several plump sausages onto his own plate as he stared incredulously at his father. 

        “Luc, we’ll have none of that.  If I was magnanimous enough to allow you to marry that little hellcat who stole your heart, I must do the same for your sister.”  He paused a moment to chew before pointing his fork at his son.  “Birth and privilege do not come into it.  I care only about the happiness of my family.  I shudder to think of what the two of you would have suffered in a less progressive kingdom.”

        Belle nodded sagely as she spread butter onto a scone.  “He’s right, Luc.  You would have had to make a political match and I would have been married off at a very tender age to someone I could have never loved.  Instead, we were raised as equals and given freedom to make our own choices.  Not many women in this realm can say the same.”

        Lucern sat back in his chair and smirked at his sister.  “Probably why you’re so bloody spoiled.”

        “She is _not_ ,” Rumpelstiltskin protested, setting down his cup as he frowned at the prince.  “She’s lovely, sweet … the kindest woman I’ve ever known!”

        “Easy, lad, he’s just ribbing her,” Maurice chuckled, trying to set the spinner’s mind at ease.

        Belle set her fork down and twined her fingers with his, a soft smile on her lips.  “Don’t let him rile you, darling.  He’s only teasing … truly.  The more time you spend with my family, the more you will become used to their little quirks.”

        He nodded, still in the habit of wanting to obey her every command.  “As you wish, m- … Belle,” he amended, casting a furtive glance at the prince who was steadily glowering at him.

        Lucern tapped his fingers against the table.  “So what should we do about him, papa?  We can’t have a peasant paying court to our princess.  The court will eat him alive and Belle will be ridiculed.  There’s a good chance they’ll think we’re punishing her or think something is wrong with her where we have no choice but to marry her off to someone so lowborn.”

        Belle tossed her linen napkin atop her plate and sat back to glare at her brother.  “Yes, gods forbid I should accept courtly behavior from the man I love,” she murmured acidly.

        “It would be nothing to bestow a title on him, daughter,” Maurice interjected before the argument between his children could worsen.  “It’s done on occasion for services to Avonlea.”

        “And what if he doesn’t want a title.  I don’t want him to have to change in order to be with me.”

        He clasped her fingers lightly as he met her gaze.  “Belle, dearie … don’t you realize I’d do _anything_ to secure our future together?”

        “I know, darling, but this is all a bit much.”

        “You’re not pregnant, are you?” the prince asked, horrified to think they’d have a scandal on their hands.

        “Luc!” Belle growled as a small squeak sounded from her spinner.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s face flamed bright crimson.  “I have never touched the princess inappropriately!”

        “Wasn’t what it looked like to me yesterday.”

        “Enough!” the king snapped.  “You’re worse than two cats in heat, spitting and snarling at one another.”  He tapped his broad chest with a finger.  “ _I_ will handle this.  Rumpelstiltskin, I am assuming you will do what is necessary to clear your path to my daughter so as not to damage her reputation?”

        “I don’t see how you’d be … er … able to accomplish such a feat, sire, but yes.“

        “Don’t worry about that, lad,” Maurice said as he rose from the table.  “Just rest assured by this afternoon, you will be well suited to court Belle.”

        Belle allowed Rumpelstiltskin to assist her to her feet so she could kiss her father’s cheek in parting.  “Papa, thank you so much … but please don’t overwhelm him.”

        He pressed a kiss to her brow and smiled fondly.  “Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetheart.  Your spinner will be just fine.  He has you to show him the way, doesn’t he?”

        Lucern rose slowly from his seat as his father left the room.  “I don’t care what papa says, Belle, you’re making a mistake.”

        Belle whirled on him, her eyes flashing blue fire.  “Just as you told Lyssa you’d be making a mistake if you married her?  It took you twice as long to secure her hand because of your big fat mouth, Luc.  I’ll not make the same mistake because of some consequence of birth.”

        “You don’t know anything about him!” he fumed.  “He could very well be trying to woo you to advance his position or that of his son.”

        “Which only proves that yes … you _don’t_ know him.  You have no idea who he was when I met him and you don’t know him now.  Stop being a selfish prat and allow me to be happy!  Trust me to know my own heart.”

        “Belle,” Rumpelstiltskin said softly, laying his hand over hers.  “He’s concerned only because he loves you, because he wishes to protect you.  You must give him time if this is truly what you want.”  He turned to the prince.  “Your highness, I would like to assure you my intentions are true.  I never knew it was possible to love someone as I do Belle, and all I want is her happiness.  I-I hope you will one day see that for yourself.”

        Lucern rolled his eyes as his sister stared at the spinner as if he’d slayed a dragon and laid it at her feet.  She was completely besotted.  Gaston made his way across the terrace as Belle and Rumpelstiltskin took their leave.

        “Well that could have gone better,” the knight remarked dryly, hooking his thumbs over his wide belt and rocking back on his heels.  “Y’know, the spinner isn’t such a bad sort once you get to know him.  He’s good for Bluebelle, makes her happy.”

        The prince sneered at his friend, seeing he’d been just as taken in by the peasant as everyone else.  “Oh, yes … indeed.  I’m certain she’ll be thanking his lucky stars when he has to sit down with her at that first state dinner.  He’s going to be an embarrassment to her more than anything.”

        Gaston chuckled.  “I’d always heard that twins share an extraordinary bond.  Now I’m thinking Belle got all the brains and you’re just a pompous ass.”

        “You overstep, friend,” Lucern hissed indignantly.

        “And you know the only reason I stay is because she needs me.  I’ve provided her protection since I was old enough to hold a sword and that protection will extend to her spinner and his child for as long as necessary,” he answered in all seriousness.  “That goes for her heart as well, Luc.  Don’t hurt her.”

        “I don’t want to hurt her.  I’m trying to protect her as well.”

        Gaston shook his head mournfully as he looked down at his friend, his prince and future king.  “Then perhaps you’d better try to get to know Rum a little better.  He loves her and is completely devoted to her, Luc.  Stop thinking of him as someone who is going to take Belle away from you.”

        “I’m not!” the prince protested petulantly.

        The knight arched one raven’s wing brow at him skeptically.  “Fine, I’m not going to argue with you.  I’ve a lad to take riding this morning.”

        “Who?”

        “Bae, of course … and his little family.”

        Lucern thought for a long moment on his friend’s impassioned speech and squared his shoulders.  If he continued to disagree with Belle so heatedly, he’d just push her further away.  What would it hurt to get to know her suitor better?  “Saddle my horse, Gaz.  I think I’ll come too.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Ignore him, darling.  Well, don’t necessarily ignore him per se … just don’t let him rile you … not that he’d do it intentionally, but –“

        “Belle, dearie, I’m fine,” he assured her, focusing all his energies on staying in the saddle.  “Or at least I’m adept at pretending.”

        Rumpelstiltskin shivered as her hand traced along the edge of his jacket over his chest.  He wondered if she insisted upon his riding lessons as an excuse to put her hands on him … not that he minded in the least.  It would just be more fortuitous if the blood would remain in his brain where it belonged instead of venturing south to his groin.  Her dainty fingers slipped inside his jacket to press themselves over his heart, her cheek resting comfortably on his right shoulder.  Her other arm was wound tightly about his waist as her body pressed flush against his back.  He’d never tell her he didn’t enjoy the ride – it would be a lie – but their time together in the saddle only made him want her more.

        Baelfire and his friend trotted sedately before them, Thorrin and Merrick trailing after them while Gaston and the prince brought up the rear.  The weather was beautiful, a late spring breeze wafted through the forest in which they traveled and it made Belle happy to be outside.  “I think it was lovely … what you said to Lucern earlier.”  She nuzzled against his ear affectionately, feeling his heart stutter against her hand and gain in speed.  “I want you to be happy too, Rumpel.”

        He smiled shyly at her over his shoulder, his lips scant inches from hers.  “You make me happy, dear one.  Never doubt it.”

        Belle hummed happily, simply content to be with him.  “Bae seems to be enjoying himself.”

        “That scamp enjoys being outside, period.  It’s always been a struggle to get him to remain indoors.  He likes the grass beneath his feet and the sun in his hair,” the spinner chuckled. 

        “I was thinking,” she whispered excitedly.  “We should take him down to the coast.  There is the little cove perhaps a mile past the borders of Avonlea before we reach Dunsmore castle.  Lucern and I used to play there with Gaston and Merrick when we were children.  I think he would like it.”

        Rumpelstiltskin wrapped the reins tightly about his left hand and lifted her fingers, brushing his lips to her knuckles.  “Shall we make a day of it? One when he’s particularly exceled at his maths?

        “A reward!  Yes!  We could see if Abel would like to come too.”

        Lucern watched the pair through narrowed eyes, trying for the life of him to discern what the two could possibly have in common.  Unable to hide his curiosity any longer, he urged his stallion forward to trot next to Belle’s mare.  “You don’t trust your spinner to ride by himself, sister?”

        Belle sighed and turned her attention to her twin.  “Of course I trust him, Luc, but he is still learning and I want him to be comfortable in the saddle.”

        “Have you shown the little one the ruins yet?” he asked, pulling to a stop at the fork in the path.  Gaston whistled, urging the others to follow suit.  “The boys could run off some of that boundless energy and do some exploring.  It could be fun and give us a chance to enjoy a break.”

        Belle frowned.  “I don’t know … there’s much for them to get into there and the path isn’t the safest course for wee ones.”

        “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

        “How dangerous?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, cautious when it came to his son and Belle being put in harm’s way.

        The princess shrugged.  “Not too bad, but rockier than what you’re used to, Rum.  The boys would have to double up with Thorrin and Merrick.  I wouldn’t want them to ride alone.”

        Rumpelstiltskin could see the desire to go warring with caution on her face, and he found he didn’t want to deny her.  “His highness wishes to go and if it can be done in relative safety …” He squared his shoulders, mustering the courage to show the prince he wasn’t a coward.  He _would_ conquer his fear.  “I think we should.”

        “It’s not as if we’re going alone as we used to do when we were children,” Lucern said with a devilish smirk.  One which Belle returned as she remembered some of their exploits.  “Come on, Bluebelle, it’ll be fun.”

        “I’ll remember that when insects are crawling about in your trousers,” she grinned, but nevertheless agreed.  If her spinner were willing to risk the journey, so would she.  “This isn’t going to interfere with your plans for visiting the weaving room this afternoon, is it?  You said Mr. Bartram had agreed to let you use his dyes,” she whispered to Rumpelstiltskin.

        “If not today, then tomorrow, Belle.”

        An hour later, he was wishing they’d stayed on the forest path as he looked out over the deep ravine off to their left.  The knights had a good lead on them, taking the children expertly through the pass with its wooded incline on one side and the ravine on the other, the gravel crunching beneath their horse’s hooves.  Belle clutched tightly to his waist, her face pressed between his shoulder blades as the neared the mouth of the glen where the ruins lay.

        “I’d forgotten what a harrowing path that was,” Lucern huffed a brittle laugh, the lines about his eyes the only evidence of his trepidation. 

        “It just didn’t seem this frightening when we were children,” Gaston called from behind the stallion’s left flank.  “I –“

        “Lucern!” Belle screamed as his horse reared on its hind legs, his eyes wide with fright as he let out a startled shriek.  He danced into the mare upon which the princess and her servant rode, setting her into frenzied motion.  Her arms tightened about Rumpelstiltskin as she fought to keep her seat, but she could feel herself slipping.

        Gaston’s arm went about her waist as he moved to the right, putting himself between the tree line and the gravel path, pulling her onto his lap atop Storm.  She was frantic as her eyes searched the path, her heart freezing in her chest as she watched the snake skitter across the rocks.  It was too late.  She reached out, her fingers inches away from her spinner as the mare bumped back into her brother’s stallion and sent both riders tumbling out of sight into the ravine below.

        “Rumpel!”

               

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok, everyone ready to kill me now? hehehe There is method to my madness, I assure you. NO ONE died!!! I promise! Tune in next week for the daring rescue :D Actually since I’m posting this tonight you only have to wait until Friday morning. Yayness!!


	11. Chapter 11

        “Rum!  No!” Belle screamed, struggling against the arm wound about her waist like an iron band.  “Let me go, Gaz!  I have to … I have to see.”

        “Carefully, Belle.  We don’t need you tumbling nose over toes after them,” he warned, setting her gently on her feet and dismounting behind her.

        She dropped to her knees, her chest throbbing painfully with the need for air.  It felt as if a mighty fist were squeezing her lungs, shock and fear for her Rumpel replacing everything but the need to get to him with all due haste.  She peered over the edge of the ravine, the landscape seemingly carved by the hands of the gods.  Steeply it plunged over the side of the mountain, the grassy slope littered with jagged rocks and tall pines scattered about.  White caps dotted the river below and there no more than twenty yards from the treacherous waters lay Lucern and Rumpelstiltskin, still and unmoving.

        “There!  Gaz, look!” she cried, pointing to where she’d seen them.  “Oh, gods!  Is that blood?”

        “How can you even tell?” he asked incredulously, lying over on his stomach to get a better look and squinting his dark eyes where she pointed.  But she wasn’t paying attention.  She had already regained her feet and moved towards her mare and the saddlebags resting near its flanks.  “What are you doing?”

        “I have rope and a pair of trousers I can change into.  I won’t get far in this skirt, now will I?” she snapped in an impatient tone.

        “You’re not going down there!  Your father would have my head.”

        “Well we can’t very well leave them down there!”

        He laid a restraining hand on her arm, swinging her around to face him.  “Belle, you’re not thinking.”

        “No, I wasn’t,” she hissed, brushing angrily at the tears streaming down her ashen cheeks.  “I should have listened to my instincts which told me not to listen to my brother when he wanted to come here!”

        “Belle, we’ve been here hundreds of time without incident.  How were we supposed to know this would happen?  It’s no one’s fault, love.  But right now we have to keep a clear head if we’re going to help them.”  He whistled to his knights standing restlessly in the mouth of the clearing at the end of the path.  Carefully they made their way back to them with the children.

        “What happened, Gaston?” Thorrin asked, keeping one arm around Baelfire as he tried to climb out of the saddle to get to Belle.

        “There was a snake,” she offered lamely, holding her arms out for her ward, cradling him close. 

        “Papa?” he whimpered, staring over the side of the ravine over her shoulder.  “Where’s papa?!”

        “He’s going to be alright, Bae.  Gaston and Merrick will get him out … Lucern too,” she assured him, drying his tears.

        “We’re going to need more than what we have available here, princess,” Merrick said gravely, taking stock of what they had in their saddlebags.

        Gaston’s brows drew together in a dark frown.  “More rope, stretchers, a wagon to transport them back to the palace … bandages.  Belle, you and Thorrin should go back and secure what we need, along with more of our men.  Gawain and Anders at the very least.”

        “They won’t be able to bring the wagon past the last fork.  It simply won’t fit along the path,” she said, mentally calculating.

        “The children need to go back, m’lady,” Thorrin added, worried that the little ones would see things not fit for their eyes.

        “Belle, he’s right.  You can always come back with our men, but Thorrin needs to go with the children.  They can’t stay here,” Gaston said, trying to get her to see reason.

        “I can’t leave Rum.  I can’t.”

        “You must.  Just for a bit.”

        It was Baelfire who changed her mind.  “Mama?”

        Belle gasped, never having thought to hear that particular moniker from the boy’s lips.  “Oh, darling.”

        “Mama, are we going to get help for papa?” he asked, his sable eyes large and liquid and too big for his little face, translucent with fear for his father.

        She nodded, choking back a sob.  “Yes, Bae, we’re going to help papa … I promise.  He’s going to be fine and back home with us before you know it.”  Thorrin took him from her and set him on the back of her mare, leaving her to mount behind him.  “Gaston, I won’t be long.  Please … please watch over them until I return.  I’ve waited so long to find him … I can’t lose him now.”

        He laid his hand over hers where it rested on the pommel of her saddle.  “You have my word, Belle.  No more harm will come to him.  I _will_ find a way to get them out.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin choked back a sob as pain shot through his temple, the pounding of dwarven pick axes chipping away at his skull.  It radiated through his body to settle into his ankle, the old wound sparking to life with new levels of agony to batter at his body.  “Fucking hell!” he cursed, his hands trembling as they searched out his injuries.

        Aside from the cut at his temple – no doubt caused by one or more of the rocks protruding from the grassy slope – his left shoulder was bruised, his hip was ablaze, his ribs were making it hard for him to breathe, and his right ankle was seemingly snapped in two.  He fought to draw breath through the pain as he struggled his way into a sitting position.  Gods!  He hadn’t hurt like that since the war.  His limp and the pain brought on by in-climate weather were a small price to pay to be able to raise his son.  How was he supposed to do that now? Fuck!  His heart stuttered as he took in his surroundings.  Where was his Belle?  Had she fallen with them?  It had happened so quickly he couldn’t be certain.  One moment he’d been atop that bloody mare and the next he and the prince had been tumbling arse over end down the slope.  The prince!

        Lucern was lying on his stomach along the pebbled shore, his boots nearly brushing the edge of the water several yards away.  Rumpelstiltskin cursed again as he tried to move, inadvertently putting pressure on his injury.  He wasn’t going to be of any help to himself or anyone else if he couldn’t stabilize his leg.  Pushing his ruined waistcoat aside, he tore long strips from the hem of his shirt and bound them around his boot, using the leather footwear as added support.  They’d probably have to cut it from him later when it began to swell, but for now it would do.  A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth against the pain, holding his leg at an awkward angle as he scooted across the mish mash of grass, rocks and tree debris until he could reach the prince’s side.  He took his first easy breath as he felt a steady pulse beneath the man’s jaw.

        Rumpelstiltskin unclasped the emerald broach from Lucern’s left shoulder and removed his torn and ragged cloak, replacing it with his own leather coat.  The fine wool of the cloak wouldn’t make the best bandages, but it would do in a pinch … and if they were ever in a ‘pinch’ … well, this was it, he thought ruefully.  Not the best circumstances to get to know one’s future brother – in – law by any means.  He set it aside and did a quick sweep of the royal’s body, not at all happy with what he found.

        The prince had a superficial cut to his scalp near his hairline which had bled profusely, but was nothing to be overly concerned with.  However the long gash in Lucern’s right leg which reached nearly from mid-thigh to ankle and the odd angle of his left shoulder did not bode well.  Thankfully, the satchel he carried everywhere with him – containing a small water skin, some thread, fine needles and one of his reading primers – hadn’t come free from his belt on the mad dash down the mountain.  Removing the knife from his left boot, he set about cutting away the prince’s pants leg so he could clean and bandage the wound.  It would upset Belle greatly should Lucern’s leg become infected and put the limb in danger.

        The man cried out as the cool water splashed against his torn flesh, his azure eyes pinning Rumpelstiltskin with an accusatory stare.  “What happened?” he asked, swinging his head around to take in their surroundings. 

        The spinner sighed and turned back to his work.  “You might as well relax, highness.  We’re going to be stuck here for a while as neither of us are in any shape to climb out under our own steam.”

        “Belle?  Where’s my sister?” he asked, shoving himself into a sitting position as he searched for her with his worried gaze.

        “The princess doesn’t appear to have fallen with us.  For that we can be thankful.”  His gaze flickered up to the top of the ravine from where they’d plummeted.  “I hope she had enough sense to take the boys back to the palace.  She isn’t very level-headed when someone she cares about has been hurt.”

        Lucern opened his mouth to protest and then sighed and snapped it shut.  “You’re right.  She’ll look at this incident as something she can’t control.  She doesn’t like situations where she isn’t in control.  Frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t come rappelling down the side of the mountain to rescue us.”

        Rumpelstiltskin chuckled softly as he set the canteen aside and reached for one of the makeshift bandages.  “I’d be willing to bet she tried, but Gaston wouldn’t put her in danger, I don’t think … at least I hope not.”

        “He won’t let her get into harm’s way,” he said, pushing a long hiss of air through his teeth as the man tied off the bandage and started with another one.  “Where’d you learn to do this, anyway … field medicine.”

        Rum snorted.  “This is keeping you from bleeding to death before help arrives.  I’m no field medic.”  He soaked a cloth with water from the canteen and nodded to Lucern’s bloody face.  “Besides, what I do … I do it for Belle.  She’s saved me over and over again from the first moment I set eyes on her and I’ll not let someone she cares about die when I can help.”

        Lucern winced as he watched his sister’s servant sit back and adjust the bandage on his own leg.  “What happened to you?”

        He shrugged and raked a hand through his shaggy brown hair, coming away with leaves and more debris and dirt than he wanted to contemplate.  “It broke on the way down.  It’s an old injury, and really I would’ve been surprised if it hadn’t been damaged in some way.”

        Lucern used the cloth to clean his face, feeling a little more clear-headed when he looked back at his companion.  “How’d it happen?  Were you in the war?  Belle said she found you near the Frontlands, and everyone knows of the duke’s war with the ogres.”

        “You’ll forgive me if I’m not so forthcoming with that story.  I haven’t even shared that one with Belle yet.”

        “Why not?  There’s no shame in being injured in battle.”  Rumpelstiltskin flushed scarlet and turned in on himself, putting his back to the prince.  “Oh … was it before you had a chance to fight?  Nevermind, it’s none of my business.”  He leaned back on his elbows and grinned cheekily at the spinner.  “So how did you meet my sister?”

        Rumpel’s gaze searched out the top of the ravine, taking note of the knights milling about as they formulated a plan to get them out.  Apparently, it would still be a good while.  “She didn’t tell you how we met?” he asked curiously.

        “She did.  I’d just like a different point of view, I suppose.  Two sides to every coin, after all.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        A vase of flowers crashed to the marble floor in the entryway as Belle barreled through the ornate doors, Baelfire clutched tightly to her chest as he clung to her.  The maid apologized in a halting litany of ‘I’m sorry’, but the princess ignored her.  Thorrin had gone immediately to the barracks which housed Belle’s personal guard and Merrick had taken the boy’s horses to the stables to turn them over to a groom and gather more supplies.  She hurried the children towards the kitchen, hoping Mrs. Potts would be able to calm them.  She nearly ran into her father as he came out of his study.

        “Belle, darling, whatever is the matter?” he asked, resting his hands firmly on her shoulders.  “Where is Rumpelbumpkin?”

        “Papa!” she cried in exasperation, brushing at the tears which had begun to stream over her cheeks once more.

        Baelfire giggled.  “It’s Rumpelstiltskin, majesty,” he chided laughingly.

        “I know that lad, but I thought you might’ve needed a laugh.  Was I right?” Maurice asked, taking the boy into his arms and holding him comfortingly.  “Now tell me what’s happened.”

        The princess sniffed into the lace handkerchief her father passed to her.  “It was awful, papa,” she began, encouraged when he followed her down the long corridor to the kitchen.  “We went up to the ruins – yes! I know we aren’t supposed to go there, but we did so don’t scold just yet – and there was a snake on the path and it frightened the horses and Rum isn’t that great in the saddle, to be honest – and our mare reared back into Lucern’s stallion and he and Rum – ravine – and oh gods!  Papa, they could be hurt!”

        “Belle, darling, please … you’re upsetting the children.  Calm yourself.”

        She choked back a sob and carded her fingers through Bae’s unruly mop of curls.  “They’ll be fine, Bae.  I’m sorry; I’m just worried.”

        “Is mista Rumpel coming back?” Abel Myerson asked, twisting his little fingers in the hem of his shirt.

        The king took him by the hand and led him into the warm cavernous kitchen.  “They’ll be home before you know it.  Why don’t we see what Mrs. Potts has for us this afternoon?  You boys must be starving after all the excitement.”

        Belle leaned up to kiss her father’s ruddy cheek.  “Thank you, papa!  Lord Myerson will be collecting Abel at three,” she called over her shoulder as she ran out of the room.

        Mrs. Potts set them down at her workstation and gave them each a ham sandwich and a peach tart hot from the oven.  “Hopefully, you two will have sense enough not to go off on dangerous quests where you’ve got no business being in the first place,” she said firmly, giving them each a wizened look.

        The king chuckled.  “They’re boys, Agatha.  It’s all part of growing.”

        She arched one silver brow at him and shook her spoon.  “I’ll remember you said that, sire.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “…God’s beard!  What kind of woman was this Milah person?” the prince balked incredulously.  “She literally _sold_ you?”

        Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, his head bobbing where it rested on his hand.  He flopped over onto his back and stared up at the fluffy white clouds, trying his best to ignore the agony in his boot.  “It was an arranged marriage … one neither of us were well suited for.  She longed for adventure, and I just wanted my son … to raise him to the best of my ability.  I don’t think she really thought she’d lose me in that game.” He sighed, pushing the memory aside.

        “And she just sold your wee son?  What kind of mother sells her own child?”

        “I try to tell myself that she sold Baelfire so my boy could remain with me, but I think she wanted her freedom more,” Rumpelstiltskin said sadly, his voice low and filled with pain for what his son must have thought of his mother’s actions.  “In the six weeks we’ve been with Belle, she’s treated him more as her son than Milah ever has.”

        Lucern stared hard at the spinner, a pang of remorse tightening his chest.  As horrible as he’d been to the man that morning, he’d still helped him in his hour of need and patched him up until aid could be had.  If Lyssa had heard even a few of the things he’d said on the terrace … he shuddered.  “Um … Rum?”

        “Yes, highness?”

        “I’d like to … I’d like to apologize for this morning.”

        “There’s no need for apologies, highness –“

        Lucern shook his head.  “No, there is.  Belle is my twin, and I have this bond with her.  I have this insane worry that something is going to happen to her, something to take her away from me.  I’m not going to be able to protect her and she’ll leave me just as our mother did.  It doesn’t excuse my horrible behavior, but I hope it helps you understand.”

        Rumpelstiltskin turned over on his side once more and stared, dumbfounded, at the royal.  “Have you spoken to her about this?”

        “No.  She’ll think I’m overreacting, I’m sure.”

        “You should talk to her.”

        “Maybe.” He rolled over onto his back to relieve some of the pressure on his wounds.  “You think maybe you and I might be able to start over? Perhaps even be friends? For Belle’s sake?  I’m pompous and a royal pain in the ass, but really I’m not that terrible.”  He lifted his head to see Rumpelstiltskin chuckling silently.  “Come on, spinner … It’s worth a try, right?”

        “I’d love nothing more than to make Belle happy, dearie … so how about you stop trying to sabotage our courtship and I’ll be your new best friend.”

        “Deal.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle was waiting at the top of the ravine with a water skin and a sharp word as her brother was hauled off of the steep slope.  Gaston and Gawain had taken the first stretcher when they’d rappelled down to the river below and it was slow going pulling it back up, their prince tied securely to it.  “You big lummox!  Don’t ever scare me like that again!  What’s wrong with you that you can’t sit your bloody horse?!” she railed at him, dousing him with the water skin.

        “Bloody fuck, Bluebelle!  Are you trying to drown me now? I haven’t suffered enough?” he yelled right back.

        Belle promptly burst into tears and threw her arms around his head, burying her face against his thick neck.  “I’m sorry, Luc,” she sobbed.  “I’m so glad you’re ok … are you ok?  Please tell me you’re ok, Luc.”

        He stroked her back through her heavy cloak, shushing her softly.  “I’m alright, Bluebelle.  Hush, love, it’s alright.”

        She smacked him in the center of his chest, her wails not lessening in volume.  “Then what’s wrong with your leg?!”

        “Save me from overemotional women!” he groaned.  “Gaz!”

        “Lummox …” Belle sniffed, shoving gently at his shoulder.  She left him there, waiting to be carried to the wagon and hurried over to her knights as they worked to lift the stretcher bearing Rumpelstiltskin up onto the gravel path.  His features were drawn and waxy, the lines of pain around his mouth and eyes standing out in stark relief.  “Oh, Rum …”

        Belle fell across his chest, her arms clasping him tightly to her as she wept.  “Shh, my love, it’s ok … we’re ok,” he breathed, whatever energy which had remained now gone.  “Where … where’s Bae?”

        “He’s fine, darling … he was with Papa and Mrs. Potts when I left the palace.” She brushed a damp lock of his hair off of his dirt streaked brow.  “He’s anxious for you to come home.”

        “I’m anxious to _be_ home, my Belle.”

        “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” she whispered tremulously, pressing a kiss to his lips.

        He mustered up a weak smile for her.  “I will never willingly leave you, sweetheart.”

        She clung to his hand as Merrick and Gaston carried him to the wagon, Anders giving her a lift up into the bed of the conveyance so she could sit between Lucern and Rumpelstiltskin.  Gaston – comfortably settled atop Storm – kept pace with the slow vehicle, reigning in the great stallion when he wanted his master to give him his head.  “What happened to my Rumpel, Gaz?” she asked, nodding to his wrapped ankle.

        “Lucern said the spinner broke it on his way down the mountain.  He’s fortunate it wasn’t his neck,” the knight said with a firm shake of his head.  “He was very lucky, Belle.”

        The prince watched his sister fawn over her sleeping spinner, her fingers carding gently through his hair as his head rested on her lap.  “I was the lucky one, sister dear.  If he hadn’t come tumbling down the mountain with me, I may well have bled out before help could arrive.”

        “My Rumpel is a good man, Luc.”  Her lips quirked into a rueful smile, sorry it had taken such an accident for her brother to see what kind of man her heart had chosen.  “Are you now going to stop protesting our courtship so vehemently?”

        He groaned as the wagon hit a particularly deep rut in the road, his wounds paining him.  “Now where would be the fun in that?”

        “Lucern …” she said warningly.

        He cast her a grin filled with devilment and closed his eyes against the late afternoon son.

 

***XOXOX***

 

 

        Mrs. Potts hovered at Rumpelstiltskin’s bedside like a mother dragon with a new clutch of eggs, watching the palace physician through narrowed eyes.  He’d just left the prince’s bedchamber, having stitched his leg and applied the medicinal poultices which would speed his healing. He was now resting comfortably under the watchful eye of Princess Lyssa. The little man gulped as the king stepped over to the bed next to the princess.

        Rumpelstiltskin winced as Merrick and Gaston cut away the strips of wool bound tightly about the leather of his boot before tackling his footwear with a vengeance.  His one small consolation since being carried to his bedchamber was Belle’s comforting arm about his shoulders.  He could weather any storm with her at his side.

        “Gaz, that bloody boot is attached to his leg.  Can’t you be a bit … I dunno … gentler?” she scolded.

        “Belle, darling,” her father chided, “he’s a knight.  Knights don’t do ‘gentle’.

        Mrs. Potts poured some of the aromatic tea from the fine china pot into a cup and passed it to him.  “Poor, lad.  Here, drink this poppy tea.  It will make what is to come a little bit easier to bear.”

        “I don’t know if now’s such a good time for a nap,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled, but one look at Belle’s worried features and he quickly tipped the cup up to his lips.  Their little accident had caused his princess enough undue stress.  He wouldn’t be responsible for more.  “Where’s Baelfire?” he asked when the cup was empty.

        “Thorrin has him thoroughly occupied, son,” Maurice murmured from where he paced anxiously at the foot of the bed.  “Something about the traveling minstrel show in town.  Said he was going to take Bae and a few of his friends.  Once the lad found out you were on your way home and none the worse for wear … so to speak … he was more than gleeful to go.”  The king didn’t mention that it would do the boy no good to hear his father curse and spit when the physician set his leg.

        Mrs. Potts took a firm hold of Belle’s elbow when Gaston sliced through the leather of Rumpelstiltskin’s trouser leg.  “Come along, dear.  Nothing for you to see here,” the woman said with a meaningful look.

        “I’m not leaving Rumpel,” she protested, digging in her heels as she jerked her arm away.  “I’ve cared for our soldiers in the infirmary before.  I’m not going to swoon at the first sign of a bruise or a wee bit of blood.”

        “I don’t think that’s what …” the king hedged.  “Y’know, nevermind.  Let’s get on with this, shall we?”  He knew how to pick his battles with his headstrong daughter and her delicate sensibilities just didn’t rate that high on the list right now.

        Mrs. Potts whipped up a blanket from the back of the settee and plopped it down across Rumpelstiltskin’s lap – grumbling the whole while about heathen children with no sense of propriety – before she collected the growing pile of tattered cloth which had once been his clothing and hurried from the room.  Gaston snorted as he stowed his dagger back into his boot and leaned against the bedpost.

        “Alright, let’s have a look,” the doctor said, reaching for the first purpling bruises on the spinner’s shoulder.

        Belle joined her father in his pacing as the little man gave Rumpelstiltskin a thorough examination, not returning to his side until it was time to see to his ankle.  “Well, what’ve you learned so far?” she snapped impatiently.

        “Calm down, highness.  Your servant will mend.  His shoulder is severely bruised, several ribs sustained damage and there’s a laceration on his temple which is already healing.” He sighed, gesturing to the odd angle at which Rumpel’s ankle lay upon the pillows which elevated it.  “His left arm will need to remain in a sling for a week at the least, his ribs will have to be bound … but I fear this is what will give us the most problems.”

        Rum’s fingers twisted in the wool blanket covering his lap.  “It’s … it’s been broken before.  S-Surely you can set it?  It will heal again, yeah?”

        The doctor cringed at the white lines of scar tissue standing out so prominently on his pale flesh.  “There’s just so much damage already … there’s no guarantee that you’ll heal properly.”

        “That isn’t what I wish to hear, Dr. Cassel,” Belle hissed, wringing her hands.  “You haven’t even tried to set the bone yet, so how can you make such a statement?”

        “Princess, I’m not trying to discourage you, dear.  I wouldn’t do that, but I can see the extensive damage this joint has suffered in the past.  I’m simply trying to prepare you.  I will do everything I can to see your servant back on his feet.”

        “Belle …” Rumpelstiltskin breathed, reaching for her hand.

        “Hush now, love,” she whispered softly, sitting beside him on the edge of the mattress and pressing her brow to his.  “It’s alright.  Doc’s going to patch you up and you’re going to be fine.  Worry not.”

        “I’m so sorry,” he replied, fighting back the sting of tears.  How could they plan their future together if he was rendered lamer than he’d been before?  He couldn’t allow her to tie herself to a cripple.

        She smiled tremulously and poured him another cup of the poppy tea, hoping it would ease some of his suffering.  “I mean it, Rum.  You’re going to be fine.”

        He nodded, quietly sipping the brew as the doctor laid out materials he’d need to wrap his ankle once the bone was set.  A strong sense of déjà vu assailed him, but whereas before he’d been surrounded by scorn, ridicule and hate, this time he was amidst people who cared for him.  Especially his little princess.  The tea helped to calm him and he was pleasantly relaxed by the time Belle slipped behind his right shoulder and wrapped her arm around his chest, Gaston taking up the same position behind his injured left.  His brawn would be able to keep him immobile and prevent further injury. 

        The spinner grunted as Merrick laid down across his legs, effectively trapping him in place.  Gaston cut a strip of leather from his wide belt and gave it to Rumpel.  “Here … bite down on this and save your tongue, man.”

        “It’s ok, Rum, I’ve got you.  It will be over quickly, my love,” Belle reassured him, tucking his head beneath her chin as she held tightly to him.  “Just hold on to me.”

        His screams could surely be heard all the way to the bailey, and Belle – for one – was thankful Baelfire was nowhere close by to hear evidence of his father’s pain.  Belle sobbed right along with him, her heart rending in two to see her love so broken.  He wept against her neck for what seemed like an eternity before his leg was lowered back onto the pillows and a series of compression wraps and a sturdy splint were secured around his ankle.

        “I think he’s passed out … finally,” Gaston huffed wearily.  “Your spinner is stronger than he looks, Bluebelle.”

        “For his sake, I hope he sleeps for a while,” Maurice added.

        “Well, he’s going to be in pain for quite a while, but from what I’ve seen, he’s lived with it since his first injury.  He won’t be using that fancy walking stick of his for a while, I’m afraid.  Crutches to start,” Cassel instructed, gathering up his things and stowing them away in his bag.  He set a drawstring pouch of fine powder on the night table.  “That will help with the worst of it, princess.  Just try not to give it to him too often.  If the swelling becomes too bad, soak it in a cold bath and if you find yourself in need … please, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

        “Thank you, Dr. Cassel.  For Rumpel and for Lucern.”

        “It was my pleasure, highness.”

        Maurice shooed the knights from the room before pulling Belle up from the bed and into his comforting embrace, his large hands rubbing soothing circles over her back.  “Oh, my girl, what have you gotten yourself into, eh?  It’ll be alright.”

        “I worry for him, papa,” she whispered brokenly, burrowing against her father’s chest.

        “He’s a good man, Belle … otherwise you wouldn’t love him so.  He’ll heal, daughter.  He’ll heal and the two of you will have a long and happy future together.  Hopefully with a passel of grandchildren for me to spoil absolutely rotten.”

        Belle laughed – truly laughed – for the first time since the accident.  “Oh, papa, you have a one track mind.”

        “I’ll send Gerta to you with a supper tray.  Try to rest as much as you can.”

        “I will … goodnight.”

 

 

       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Poor woobie and his busted ankle. You think he’ll heal ok? Let’s hope. Next week: Bae goes for a sleepover and Rumpel tells Belle a bit of his past that he’s not too proud of. Really hope you enjoyed the chapter, my darlings. See you next week :D


	12. Chapter 12

 

         “Just set it there, Gerta,” Belle waved her maid over to the sitting area before the hearth with her dinner tray, stifling a huge yawn.  The day was beginning to catch up with her and there was still much to be done before she could find peace in sleep.

         “Your bath is nearly ready, m’lady.  I believe you have time enough to have your dinner first, though,” Gerta said, pouring out a cupful of mead for her lady and setting it next to the covered dish on her tray.

         Belle smiled happily at the braised lamb, roasted red potatoes and tender baby carrots on her plate, something comforting after the trying day she’d had.  Another covered dish sat on the tray for Rumpelstiltskin when he awoke.  She only hoped he’d have an appetite for it.  “Gerta, when you’re done, please fetch a bucket of hot water, some towels and cloths, soap and some fresh linens for Rumpel’s bed.  I want to try to get some of the grime off of him and his sheets changed so he might be able to rest better tonight.”

         Her maid looked alarmed.  “M’lady, are you certain.  It’s highly improper for you … won’t you let me summon Vasha and her assistants to see to Rum?”

         Belle sighed.  Only a servant who had been with her as long as Gerta and Bethany would dare question her actions.  It was also why she didn’t mind imparting some of her happy news with the woman.  “Gerta, Rum was granted permission to court me just this morning.  He’s going to be my husband.  There’s nothing wrong with me seeing him –“

         “Naked?”

         The princess blushed and looked down at her dinner.  “It’s going to happen sooner or later, Gerta.  Don’t be such a goose,” she chuckled.

         “Well, m’lady, I think it’s wonderful your father is going to allow him to court you.  Anyone not blind, simple or stupid can see how much you care for one another,” she mumbled under her breath as she hurried through the connecting door to see about Belle’s bath preparations.

         Belle shook her head wondering how many of her servants were taking bets on her relationship with her spinner.  She made quick work of her dinner, having just set her empty plate back on the tray when her guard knocked on the door.  “Enter,” she called, though not loudly enough to disturb Rumpel’s restless sleep.

         Merrick – who had stayed behind for his shift despite being in on the rescue mission – opened the door to allow Bae to enter, Abel and Cybil Meyerson following behind him.  “Mama!” he cried, rushing to Belle, his cheeks pink with excitement.  “How’s papa?” He cast his anxious gaze over at his sleeping father.  “Is he ok?”

         Belle pulled him onto her lap and kissed his cheek soundly, relieved to see he was no worse for the wear.  “Papa’s hurt, Bae, but he’s going to get better.  He took a nasty tumble and he injured himself, but you’re not to fret, darling.”

         Lady Myerson curtsied to the princess.  “Highness, I was so sorry to hear about your servant’s accident.  We would love to have Baelfire come and stay with us tonight if you are amenable.”

         Belle chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip as she hugged the boy.  There hadn’t been a night passed that Bae had spent away from her own comfortable apartments she shared with him and his father.  “Is … is that something you’d like to do, darling? Spend the night with your friend?” she asked, allowing the decision to rest with her child.

         “Would it be ok? Do you think papa would mind?”

         Belle looked towards the bed.  “Really, I don’t think he’d notice.  Yes, I suppose it would be alright if you go.”  She set him down to fetch a fresh pair of pajamas from his wardrobe.  “Cybil, thank you so much.  Just have Thorrin bring him back if he gives you any trouble.”

         The petite blonde smiled fondly at the boy.  “Bae’s never any trouble, highness.  He’s such a sweet boy.”

         Belle said goodnight to them and Merrick closed the door securely behind them as they took their leave.  She hurried to her room, already pulling at her stays to make haste with her bath.  Leaving Rumpelstiltskin alone – even with their connecting door open – wasn’t something she wanted to do for very long.

 

***XOXOX***

 

_“You could have fought_ _… you could have died, Rumpel!”_

_“You don’t mean that!_ _You don_ _’t mean that!” he cried, giving a vehement shake of his head._ _A shiver of fear skittered down his spine at the look of sheer revulsion in her once lovely eyes._ _Now they held contempt, loathing, hate and he turned away from it, unable to look._ _Instead he held out his arms as Milah moved to place his son into his embrace_ _– the first of many which would carry him through the lonely years ahead._

         Rumpelstiltskin cried out as a fresh wave of agony permeated his senses, fire sparking along his nerve endings.  The pain mixed with the memory, the nightmare, had his eyes widening in panic as he reached for his ankle.  Soft hands, gentle hands intercepted his, grounding him in the present.

         A warm wet cloth came up to wipe gently at his face and he made his eyes focus on the sweet beloved features of his princess as she attempted to soothe him.  “Belle …”

         “It’s alright, my love.  I’m here.  She can’t hurt you any longer,” she cooed, soaking the cloth again and wringing it out before trailing it over his neck.  “There … that’s better, yeah?”

         She poured him a cup of cool water from the pitcher and brought it to his lips.  He drank it all, his throat parched from the tea he’d drunk earlier and the medicine she’d forced on him after he’d passed out.  “Bae?  Where’s Baelfire?”

         “Bae is with Lord and Lady Myerson, darling.  He was invited to a sleepover with his friend.  I didn’t think you would mind considering that you’re in for a rough night.”

         He nodded, seeing the logic in her decision to let the child go with his friend.  Drinking another cupful of the cool liquid, he handed the goblet back to her and sank back onto his pillows, grinding his teeth against the pain.  “What did the doctor have to say?” he asked quietly, agonizing over what he might have said or done during the height of his ordeal.

         Belle fingered the long sling wrapped about his neck which held his arm immobile and lower over the tight linen which bound his ribs.  “He said you’re to wear the sling for the next week, the bindings for the next month and he’ll be back to check your ankle in a week to make certain it’s setting properly.”

         She took away his pillows and set them aside, urging him to lie flat against the sheets as she dipped the cloth back into the bucket and made a nice lather with the soft sandalwood soap.  “What are you doing, dearie?”

         “Giving you a bath, of course,” she said simply, concentrating her efforts to his chest and arms, cleaning what she could of his exposed skin while trying to keep the bindings about his ribs dry.

         His gaze slid away from her, his lids closing in shame.  “What good am I to you now, my mistress?”

         The skin about her eyes tightened as her lids narrowed to thin slits.  “What do you mean _what good are you to me_?  You are the man I love … you are every good to me, Rumpelstiltskin.  Don’t talk that way,” she admonished sternly.  “I nearly died when I saw you go over that ledge into the ravine below.”  She cleaned each and every abrasion on his arms, the worst of them on the left.  “You saved Lucern, Rum.  For that the entire kingdom will be grateful to you.”

         His sable eyes flashed hotly with an ire she’d rarely seen in them.  “And yet you’re to be the one tending to the cripple.  For how long, Belle?”

         “Until you’re better.”

         He turned his face away from her, shutting her out.

         “Do you really think I am bitter to care for you?  Do you not know me at all, Rumpel?” she asked, slipping her fingers beneath his jaw to turn his face back to hers.  “I love you, my sweet spinner.  You’re mine.  By your own profession of love, you surrendered your heart.  I’ll not be giving it back.  I’ll be having forever from you, thank you very much.”

         Belle resumed her task as he gaped at her, his countenance dark and stormy.  “You deserve better … at least a man who is whole and strong.  I may never walk again, Belle, and if you choose me for your husband … I can’t let you throw away your life on me, love … I can’t.”

         She set the cloth aside and cradled his face in her warm hands, smoothing her thumbs over his sharp cheekbones.  “I don’t think this is about what either of us deserve, Rumpelstiltskin.  This is Milah talking, isn’t it?”  She leaned over him, her lips brushing his in a gentle kiss.  “I’m not her, love.  I could _never_ be her.”

         “I know that.  But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m a useless cripple.”

         “Stop it.  I won’t have you say such things … especially when it’s not true,” she protested.  “Talk to me.  Tell me what she did when you came home from the war.  I know whatever you’re keeping from me is causing this fear that I’ll reject you.  Tell me.”

         Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.  How was it she always knew exactly what troubled him?  Why could she always see so easily to the root of his problems?  “I don’t want you to hate me,” he said, his voice an agonized whisper filled with self-loathing.

         Belle rested her hand over his heart as she kissed him again, gentle sipping kisses meant to soothe.  “I love you, my spinner.  My heart is so filled with it there is no room for anything else.”

         She gave him time, whether to gather his courage or simply ignore her pleas, leaving it entirely in his hands whether or not to tell her, busying herself with bathing his battered body.  She helped him sit up so she could wash his back and couldn’t help but notice the way his breath hitched as she leaned into him.  Her own breath stuttered in her chest, heat unfurling in her belly as his hands came to rest at her waist, his nose ghosting with feather softness below her ear.

         “Where’s Gerta, dearest?  You shouldn’t be in here alone with me like this.”

         She removed the sling from about his neck – having gotten it wet, it being unavoidable – and tossed it to the floor.  He groaned as she trailed the soapy cloth over the corded muscles of his back and pulled her closer.  If he weren’t careful her own flannel nightgown would wind up just as soaked as his sheets were becoming.  She chuckled lowly.  “Why, darling, you sound as if you don’t trust me to behave myself.  She knows I won’t try to take advantage of an injured man …” Belle purred silkily against the shell of his ear, causing him to shiver.  “Not yet, at least.  I’ll give you a few days … a week at most.”

         He couldn’t help the burst of laughter that issued forth past his lips.  “You’re incorrigible.”

         “I made you laugh, though,” she smirked cheekily, rinsing out the cloth and clearing the soap off of his back so he could lie down again.  “How are you feeling?  Are you in pain?  Is it bearable?  I’d like to wait to give you your medicine until after you’ve eaten.  The doctor said it won’t leave you so debilitated if you take it with food.”

         Rumpelstiltskin caught her hand as she moved to pull the blanket away from his lap, his thumb caressing the light tracery of veins in her wrist.  He could tell from her inane chatter just how nervous she was, despite the brave front she was putting on.  “I can finish if you want, Belle.”

         “No,” she interjected.  “You’re my … um, my … well, you’re mine, and I want to take care of you.”  She blushed a fiery shade of crimson as she whipped the blanket away, relieved to find him still in his small clothes.  She concentrated on her task, lathering the cloth again and dragging it over his stomach beneath the bindings about his ribs.  His muscles flexed under her touch and her eyes flew up to his in askance.  “Did I hurt you?”

         He shook his head, his sable eyes dark with the desire she was stirring within him.  “No,” he rasped, his breath stuttering past his parted lips.  His own cheeks were pinking as he felt the blood rush to his groin.  Her hands so warm against his exposed skin.  “No, you didn’t hurt me.”

         “You should be used to it having Vasha and her girls bathe you each night.”

         One corner of his mouth curved up into a wry smirk.  “I don’t desire Vasha and her girls, my Belle.  She could strip down to nothing and offer herself to me on a bed of rose petals and she still wouldn’t hold my interest as you do.”

         She hurried to finish removing the last of the soap from his belly and legs as Gerta came in with an armful of linens for his bed.  Belle pulled the blanket back over him to preserve his modesty, wishing she’d had more time alone with him.  She made up her mind right then that she wouldn’t be leaving him that night, propriety be damned.

         It took half an hour, a knight, the princess and the maid – not to mention a serious blow to the spinner’s pride – to get the sheets changed without having to disturb Rumpelstiltskin’s position atop the bed.  While Belle helped her love change into a fresh nightshirt – there was no way she was going to attempt to get a pair of sleeping pants over that bulkily bandaged ankle – she had Gerta return his dinner to the kitchens to be warmed.  Merrick ended his shift, giving over to one of Lucern’s knights and all was quiet but for the crackling of the hearth fire.

         Belle went about the room, tidying up so Gerta wouldn’t have to do it alone and turned out the lamps except for those set on the bedside table.  “Would you like me to read to you for a while, Rumpel? Gerta shouldn’t be long with your dinner.”  She adjusted the sling about his neck, but ceased her fussing when he winced.

         “I’m so sorry, Belle.  This wasn’t how I wanted this evening to end,” he apologized linking the fingers of his good hand with hers.

         “It’s not your fault.  Luc was just trying to share something with the boys that we’d enjoyed as children.  The only path to the ruins is rather tricky to cross.  No one could have known there would be a snake to spook the horses.”

         “I know, but … I just wanted …” he ducked his head shyly, peering up at her from beneath his lashes.   “I was going to ask Mrs. Potts to prepare us dinner in the garden, u-under your favorite plum tree.  I’d found a book of sonnets in the library last week and I’ve been practicing.  I was going to read some to you over dessert.  I do want to court you, Belle.  I want to show you how very much I love you.  A-And it won’t just be this way during our courtship.  I want it to be this way between us always.”

         Belle swallowed around the lump of trepidation that rose up to choke her as she brushed a lock of his hair away from his eyes.  She’d always been too bold, too brash and impulsive and now didn’t seem like the time to change, plunging ahead.  “And what are your intentions, Rumpelstiltskin?  Do you intend to take me as your wife?” she asked, her gaze filled with the hope she felt in her heart.

         “You don’t mince words, do you, my mistress?” he whispered, his voice filled with awe for her honesty.

         “I would rather you know what I’m thinking than leave you guessing.  I fear you’ve been toyed with enough in your life, my love.  And when I want to know something, I will ask you.  Now … do you intend to take me as your wife?  I don’t like feeling so bereft wondering over your feelings.”

         Rumpelstiltskin brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek in a soft caress, his eyes sad and luminous as he met her gaze.  “I’m broken, Belle, but I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

         She leaned into him, their lips barely touching, afraid to shatter the moment.  “You’re not broken, Rum, just a little bent.  You’ll heal, my love … and yes, oh yes I’ll have you.  Forever.”

         He sipped softly from her lips, coaxing her closer but not deepening the kiss, afraid to frighten her with his ardor.  Gods, he wanted her so much, and whether she was amenable or not, he was in no right fit state to do anything about it.  “What if I’m never able to walk properly?”

         “Shh, you can lean on me.”

         “What if you grow weary of me?”

         Another sweet brush of lips.  “I won’t.”

         “What if –“

         “Rum, darling … please shut up and just kiss me!”

         His hand slipped around to her nape, his thumb caressing the tender flesh just behind her ear as he gave in, his tongue darting out to slide sinuously over her lower lip.  She tasted of honey and mead and sweet springtime carrots and he felt as if her lips were the nectar of the gods, manna from heaven sent to sustain him for the rest of his days.  She brought fire to his veins to warm him, to chase away the coldness he’d lived with for so long.  The aches in his body and the fiery agony in his ankle were muted as his head swam and his lips drank from hers.  She was his everything, the other half of his soul, the truest, purest love he would ever know.  He couldn’t fathom what he’d ever done to deserve such a gift, but he knew he’d thank the fates, the gods and karma itself for sending her to save him.

         Belle pulled back with a cry as she leaned against his chest and he groaned from the pressure to his ribs.  “Oh, darling, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

         “I assure you it was worth it,” he chuckled.

         Gerta clucked wryly as she came into the room with his dinner and noticed the closeness her princess shared with her former servant.  “Well, I can see this is going to be the shortest courtship on record.”

         “Oh, posh!” Belle scoffed, taking the tray from her maid and setting it on Rumpel’s lap.

         “And you need to make an announcement very soon about your claim on her, Rumpelstiltskin.  The kitchen staff is nigh swooning over your heroic acts this afternoon.  They’ll be throwing themselves at your feet at the first opportunity,” Gerta claimed.

         Belle arched a brow, none too amused.  “Oh they are, are they?  I’ll have to have a word with Mrs. Potts in the morning.  And papa, too.”

         Rumpelstiltskin’s brows disappeared beneath his shaggy fringe of tawny hair as his gaze swung between the two women.  Apparently, they’d both taken leave of their senses..  “But I didn’t do anything.  I was just as trapped as the prince.  It was Gaston and your knights who got us out.”

         “But it was your quick thinking that kept Lucern from bleeding to death before we could launch a rescue, darling,” Belle said proudly.  “You’re a hero.”

         “Will you be needing anything else, highness?”

         “No, Gerta, it’s late.  You may retire for the evening.  Thank you.”

         Belle removed the cover from the tray and took up the fork, spearing a carrot and bringing it to her love’s lips.  He knew it was pointless to argue with her insistence in feeding him, and really he was too exhausted to bother.  He couldn’t have imagined Milah taking on such a task … even when she was inclined to pretend to care for him before the war.  Belle acted as if it were a privilege to do so.  He was hungrier than he’d thought and didn’t take long to finish off every last morsel of the well prepared meal.

         She removed the tray and brought it out to the knight guarding their chambers to have it sent back to the kitchen and then gave instruction that they weren’t to be disturbed until breakfast.  The little drawstring pouch filled with powder to help manage his pain was still on the night table and she didn’t hesitate to pick it up and measure out a small amount in a cupful of water, insisting he drink it all.

         “Here … lie back, love.  It won’t take long for it to take effect and you should be ready to sleep,” she said, adjusting his pillows and smoothing his blanket.

         His fingers closed loosely over her wrist.  “Will you stay with me … at least until I doze off?”

         She smiled sweetly and caressed his cheek with her fingertips, soothing away his fears.  “Oh, darling, I’m not leaving you.  Just let me extinguish the lamps, alright?”

         It didn’t take her but a moment to cast them into muted darkness, only the light from the hearth and a few moonbeams filtering through the curtains left.  Then she stood by the bed, biting her lip as she tried to decide which side to sleep on.

         “Come onto the right, Belle.  At least on that side I have one good arm to hold you,” he murmured, holding the blankets up for her to crawl in.

         “What if I accidentally hurt you in my sleep?”

         “My leg is propped up on so many pillows you’d have to reach for it on purpose.  I’ll be fine.  Come,” he coaxed.

         Belle eased her weight onto the bed, hoping not to jostle him too much, and nestled against his side.  His arm came around her back, his hand tucking in at her waist as he pressed a kiss to her hair and released a sigh of contentment.  “Oh I could definitely get used to this,” she whispered, twining her fingers with those of his left.

         “Belle?” he asked when she’d been lying next to him for a while.  “Are you asleep?”

         She yawned and tilted her face up to look at him.  “Not yet.  Do you need something?”

         Rumpelstiltskin sighed, gathering up his flagging courage as he stared into the flames licking away at the pine knot in the hearth.  “I did it to myself.”

         Belle willed herself to remain still despite the excitement now coursing through her.  Anytime he chose to share a bit of his past, her heart took flight, the knowledge that he was giving a little piece of himself to her making her love him all the more.  She was almost afraid to say anything.  Afraid that if she did, he would close himself off once more.  She made a little noise in the back of her throat to let him know she was listening, hoping he would continue.

         “I’d been conscripted, brought to the front and put through training.  I was prepared to do my duty and fight despite the senselessness of the cause,” he said, his voice low as he lost himself in his memories.  “We were to march into our first battle soon and … well, I was assigned to guard duty.”

         She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze when she felt he’d paused too long, wondering if he’d gotten lost in the morass of painful memories or if the pain medication were beginning to take effect.

         “It was a child, Belle … a child, a female with long red hair and thick black stitches where her eyes should have been.  She was a seer with big blue eyes in the palms of her hands.  Frankly, she was rather terrifying.  They had her in a cage … planned to use her to turn the tide of the battle.  She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen winters.”

         Belle leaned up on her elbow to stare down at him in horror.  “Who does such a thing to a child?  My father and brother are seasoned soldiers, Rum, and they’d never subject a child to the atrocities of war.”

         “You don’t know the lengths the Duke of the Frontlands will go to in order to win his little war, Belle.  He doesn’t care.  The last we’d heard, he’d lowered the age of conscription to sixteen,” he said bitterly.  “I was terrified of Baelfire coming of age and having to fight.”

         “Well that’s not something you have to worry over any longer, my love.  Our son is safe now, here in Avonlea.”  She leaned down and brushed her lips to his in a sweet kiss of affirmation and felt him relax once more.  “So, what happened to the child seer whom you were guarding?”

         “She told me that Milah was pregnant with Bae and my actions on the battlefield would leave my child fatherless,” he whispered brokenly.  “How could I leave my son?  I hadn’t even held him for the first time, hadn’t touched his cheek or kissed his perfect little brow.  I couldn’t do it, Belle.”

         Belle gently petted his hair where it grayed at his temple and caught a solitary tear on her thumb.  “Of course you couldn’t, darling.  He would have been so lost without you.”  She placed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.  “What did you do?”

         “She’d been right about everything else she’d told me.  I couldn’t take the chance that she might be wrong about my death, could I?  I took a hammer and I shattered my ankle.  I was a coward and –“

         “You are _not_ a coward, Rumpelstiltskin!” she cried adamantly.

         “I took the coward’s way out, Belle.  No matter how you deny it, it doesn’t change the fact that I injured myself so I wouldn’t have to fight.”

         “It also doesn’t change the fact that in order to spare your child an uncertain fate, you sacrificed a limb to insure he had you by his side to raise him up into a fine young man.  You are _not_ a coward, my love.  It was incredibly brave what you did.  I know I couldn’t have found the courage within myself to do such a thing even if it was for another.”  She pressed her brow to his, nuzzling against his long nose.  “You are his hero, Rumpel.  He loves no one as he loves you and he doesn’t even know why.  One day I hope you will tell him.”

         “I don’t want him to see me as a coward, too afraid to fight the ogres,” he hissed in a self-deprecating tone so filled with loathing his voice dripped with it.  “It’s bad enough he had to see the scorn and ridicule I suffered from those in our village.”

         “They were small-minded provincials who thrived on the suffering of others to distract them from their own problems,” she sneered, carding her fingers through his hair.  “Bae would never see you as anything but the hero you are.   _His_ hero.  And now Lucern’s.  I’m sure Baelfire will be more than relieved that you chose to maim yourself rather than leave him alone to grow up without you.”

         “Oh, Belle.  You are blinded by love, my darling.”

         “You just refuse to believe.”  She kissed him soundly and laid her head on his shoulder once more.  “What happened next?  Did you have a poor doctor? Is that why your ankle didn’t heal properly?”

         Rumpelstiltskin laughed bitterly.  “Didn’t have one.  The field doctor at the front refused to set it … said he wouldn’t touch a coward who abandoned his duty.  I had to fend for myself.  Wrapped it up as best I could and set off for home when I could bear weight on it without passing out from the pain.”

         Belle pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “Thank you for telling me.”

         “I almost didn’t.”

         “I know, love.  I know you were afraid I wouldn’t love you anymore, but hopefully your fears are laid to rest?”

         The fingers at her waist gave a tentative squeeze as he hugged her tightly.  “I was being silly?”

         “Oh yes, most definitely,” she said with mock seriousness.  “Rumpelstiltskin, I love you.  Nothing is going to change that.  Please don’t be afraid to be honest with me.”

         His voice grew deeper as his medication began to work and pull him towards the blessed bliss of unconsciousness.  “I love you too, mistress,” he slurred.  “I’ll try not to fail you.”

         Belle pulled the duvet up over his left shoulder, cocooning him in warmth as she closed her own eyes.  “You won’t, Rum … you won’t.”

       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Belle takes caring for her spinner very seriously, don’t she? And you have to admit it’s nice to see him opening up to her more about his past. Well, did you like it, dearies? Please do let me know one way or the other. Next week, Lucern has an announcement and Baelfire hears the good news :D


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

        “God’s scabby knees!  Still abed … and with … my sister,” Lucern growled from the open door between Belle’s bedchamber and that of her spinner’s.  “I do wonder if I should be concerned.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes flew open at the unfamiliar snarl coming from the doorway, fighting to get his fuzzy brain to focus and assess the threat.  His arm tightened about Belle’s waist and she grumbled unintelligibly against his shoulder.  Gaston snickered from behind Lucern’s left shoulder and prodded him forward into the room, careful not to nudge him too hard lest he take a tumble on the crutches he leaned upon.

        “Oh, give over, Luc.  The door is open and Gerta spent the night in Belle’s room should she have needed anything.  Not to mention the man is incapacitated,” Gaston drawled in a dry tone as he urged the prince into a chair beside the bed.

        “Highness, I assure you we’ve done nothing untoward,” Rumpelstiltskin said softly, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Belle.  Unfortunately, the other members of her family weren’t so considerate.

        Belle tossed her pillow at her brother before diving under the covers and nestling herself tightly against Rumpelstiltskin’s side, greedy for his warmth and comfort.  Gaston tickled her bare foot where it poked out from beneath the duvet.  “Bloody hell, Gaz!” she snarled, whipping the duvet off her head to glare at him.  “Can’t we have any peace this morning?”

        “It’s nearly noon, love.”

        “Don’t care!”

        “Well, perhaps once you hear the news I have to impart, you’ll change your mind,” Lucern interjected, happily taking a cup of tea Bethany offered him from the tray which had just been delivered.

        Rumpelstiltskin eyed the second set of crutches the little maid had set against the edge of the bed.  “Might we hold off on your news until after I’ve visited the water closet? And maybe found some trousers?”

        Lucern grinned at him over the rim of his cup, his brow arching in amusement.  “Of course, my good man.”

        Belle bit her lip, all remnants of sleep leaving her at the thought of her spinner getting out of the bed.  She knew it would happen sooner or later, but it didn’t make her worry any less.  “How are we going to manage this?  With your shoulder …”  She bounded out of the bed, her curls tumbling all about her as she rounded the foot of the bed to his side.

        “Fetch him some pants, Bluebelle,” Gaston ordered helpfully, brushing her out of the way so he could help Rumpel maneuver to the side of the bed without putting any pressure on his injured limb.

        “Fuckkkkk!  Sorry, dearest,” he amended apologetically when she blushed.  “But I’d forgotten how bloody painful broken bones could be.”  It was only worse as he placed his foot gently on the floor and the blood flow surged to the battered joint.  It was all he could do to grind his teeth against the pain and pray he wouldn’t embarrass himself before the nobles congregated in his room.  He’d rather walk across the desert on his broken ankle than let the tears sparking at his eyes fall over his lashes.

        “Deep breaths, Rumpel,” Belle commanded gently as she knelt at his feet.  Gaston gripped the spinner’s right leg just beneath the knee and held it out for her to begin to work the trousers over the thick bandage.  Once they were around his knees she rose to her feet.  “Alright, Gaz, help him up.  Get the crutch under his right arm … yes.”

        Rumpelstiltskin threw off the sling and worked the other crutch under his left arm.  “There’s no other way, Belle.  I’ll wear the bloody sling when I’m back in bed.  I’d prefer, however, not to land face first on the floor out in the corridor.”

        “Grouch,” she chuckled, slipping her arm about his waist and holding fast as he took a tentative hop forward.  It was imperative that he bear no weight to his fragile bones despite the secure wrappings to hold them in place.

        Lucern grimaced as they returned to the room.  Rumpelstiltskin looked as though his jaw would shatter from the strain of clenching it, his color waxy and pale from the pain.  “Gods, man, you look like hell.”

        “Which is why he’s going to have to settle for a chamber pot for a few days despite his missish misgivings,” Belle insisted as she helped her love back onto the bed and piled up the pillows to rest his leg on.  Bethany had taken the opportunity to make the bed and hurried to fetch a light blanket to drape over his legs.

        Her spinner scowled darkly and leaned his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes instead of arguing with her in front of her twin.  “I’m perfectly capable of hobbling to the bloody water closet, Belle.”

        “Oh indeed,” she snapped in a waspish tone brought on by her worry for him.  “And I’ll not have you falling and injuring yourself further, Rum.  Once your shoulder is better you’ll be able to maneuver the crutches better.”

        “Your ladies send their regards, Bluebelle,” her brother grinned.

        She arched a brow at him as she settled next to Rumpelstiltskin on the bed, pulling a lunch tray between them to share.  “Did they now?  I wonder what they’ll be conspiring in my absence.”

        Lucern leaned forward and snatched a scone from the tray, narrowly avoiding being slapped with her butter knife.  “They were all aflutter with the announcement I made this morning over breakfast.”

        “What announcement?  You shouldn’t even have been at breakfast this morning.  You should have been in bed nursing that injury,” she admonished as she buttered a blueberry scone and handed it to Rumpelstiltskin who was busily preparing a cup of tea for her.

        “Pfft!  Dr. Cassel stitched me up tight.  I’m perfectly fine.  It’s no worse than the time I took a spear to my backside during that skirmish at the pass three years ago.”

        Belle giggled.  “Yes, that was rather humiliating, wasn’t it?  _And_ you had to remain in bed for a fortnight flat on your belly.”

        “Anyway,” he smirked.  “As I was saying … your ladies were all atwitter after I made the announcement that you will be marrying soon.”

        She spluttered into her tea.  “What?  Tell me you didn’t announce it to the entire court!  Gods, Lucern, what is wrong with you?  I swear papa dropped you on your head when you were a wee babe,” she hissed.  “Did you never think to speak with me or Rum about making an announcement?  It was very late last night when we even spoke of our courtship, much less plans to marry.  You’re entirely too presumptuous.”

        “Um …”

        Gaston snorted and held out his teacup for Bethany to refill.  “He was simply anticipating your wishes, Bluebelle.”

        Rumpelstiltskin shook his head and swallowed the last bit of scone he’d been chewing.  “How did they take it?  They can’t be happy their princess is marrying a peasant.”

        “That might be true if she were marrying a peasant … which she’s not.”

        Belle glared at her brother, her mouth falling open in protest, a firm scolding ready to be unleashed from her sharp tongue.  He held up a hand to forestall the storm.  “Luc –“

        “Easy, my sister.  Rumpelstiltskin will still be your husband when all is said and done, but he will no longer be a peasant.”  Gaston handed Lucern the diplomatic pouch which he opened to withdraw the documents held therein for Belle and Rumpelstiltskin to peruse.

        Rumpelstiltskin set his tea cup on the tray and frowned down at the looping scrawl on the parchment.  “Belle, love, the penmanship is –“

        “Here, darling, let me see.  I presume you wrote it out yourself, Lucern?” She asked, grinning as he shrugged.  “For valorous service to the crown, Rumpelstiltskin of the Frontlands is hereby bequeathed the title of Earl.  Earl?  You made him an _Earl_?”

        Her spinner took the parchment back and stared at it in amazement.  “What does that mean?”

        Gaston looked smugly happy.  “It means you’re a noble now, spinner.”

        “It also goes on to say that he will sit over Dunsmore since it is part of your dowry.  I dunno, Bluebelle, Earl Spinner has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” her brother crowed, pleased with himself.  “Least I could do since the man kept me from bleeding to death yesterday.”

        “Valorous service to the crown.  Oh, Lucern,” she gushed, happy tears rolling over her flushed cheeks.

        Rumpelstiltskin shook his head as he looked over at his princess.  “But I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

        “Spinner, you were hurt yourself, grievously so, yet you took the time to patch me up until our knights could rescue us.  You’ve won the heart of our princess and now the hearts of our people.  I believe we need to celebrate,” the prince said, clapping his hands.

        “You always look for a reason to feast.  It’s a wonder you’re not fat as Lord Grimmold,” Belle snorted.

        Gaston rose to his feet and tucked the papers away in their pouch for Belle to safely file away later.  “Soon as he’s steady on his crutches we can feast and announce the betrothal.  If that’s agreeable to you, Rumpelstiltskin?”

        “I-I don’t … I’m … uh …”

        “I think he’s a bit overwhelmed,” Lucern chuckled.  “No matter.  Just let us know what you decide.”  He climbed awkwardly to his feet and shoved his crutches beneath his arms, wincing as he steadied himself.  “Now I need to get back to Lyssa before she decides I’ve been away too long.  She wasn’t at all pleased that I could have died yesterday.”

        “I should say not, brother.”  Belle rose from the bed and threw her arms about his neck, embracing him warmly.  “Thank you, Luc.  You don’t know how much this means to me … and to my Rumpel.” She kissed him soundly on his cheek.  “I love you.”

        “I love you too, Bluebelle.”

        Belle returned to sit next to her love as Bethany saw Gaston and Lucern to the door.  It was a true test to her upbringing that she wasn’t bouncing with glee atop the sofa cushions.  “Highness!  Oh, I’m so happy for you and Rum … er … Earl Spinner.  An earl!” she gushed happily.  “I just don’t know what to say! I can’t wait to hear what Mrs. Potts will have to say about it.”

        Rumpelstiltskin stared at her in horror.  “What will Baelfire think?” He turned his worried gaze to Belle.  “What are we going to tell Bae?”

        “The truth of course,” she said simply, spooning a forkful of poached egg into his mouth.  “Chew please.”

        “Belle!”

        “What?  You’re fretting over nothing.  You were worried that papa wouldn’t allow you to court me because you were a servant and a peasant, and _he_ surprised you.  Then you were worried about Lucern and the court.  Now he’s elevated your station and announced to everyone that you have won my hand.  Baelfire is going to be happy if you’re happy, darling.”

        “How can you be so sure?” he asked, narrowly avoiding a piece of bacon until he could get the words out.

        Belle bit thoughtfully at her lower lip, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes.  “He called me _mama_ yesterday.”

        He gaped at her, nearly choking on a bit of scone.  “He did?  When did this happen?”

        She set the fork aside, neither of them having an appetite any longer.  “Are you upset?  It was just after you and Lucern had fallen into the ravine and Thorrin brought him to me.  He was so worried for your safety and I think a little insecure that he couldn’t help you and fretful that we wouldn’t be able to get to you.  He just reached out to me as the only other parent figure in his life.”

        Bethany came to clear away the tray, shutting the door behind her to give them some privacy.  He pulled Belle into his side and pressed a kiss to her brow, reassuring her with his touch.  “No, I’m not upset, just surprised.  Sweetheart, Milah cared for his basic needs … most of the time,” he added as an afterthought. “But I was the only parent who showed him love and affection.  I was the only one who gave him my time and understanding.  It gladdens my heart that he’s reached out to you, that he trusts and loves you enough to see you as his mother.  You have shown him more love and nurturing in six weeks than Milah did in seven years.  You _are_ his mama.”

        Belle wrapped her arms about his neck and clung to him, overjoyed to hear that he was pleased with this new development.  “I do love him so very much, Rumpel.  I couldn’t love him more if he were my own.”

        “This is really happening,” he murmured against her lips as she brought them up to brush over his own.  “It’s so hard to believe.  I … Good things just don’t happen to me, Belle.”

        “Things change, my love.  All you can do is accept them for what they are … blessings, and clasp tightly to them with both hands,” she said, carding her fingers through his hair.  “It was destiny or fate or karma that brought us together, but it was up to us to carve it to fit us.  Just be happy, Rum.  Be happy and let me love you.”

        “Always, my princess.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Merciful Gods!!” Rumpelstiltskin cried, whipping the blanket off of his legs to reach for his right calf, his fingers kneading at the ravaged muscle.

        Belle set her book aside and hurried to the bed, brushing his hands aside so she could massage the ache away.  “Cramp?”  At his nod she clucked sympathetically.  “I wonder if Mrs. Potts still has any of those bananas which came in on the ship a few days ago.  They’re rich in nutrients and might help.  We could try.”

        “I’ll just be glad when I don’t have to take that infernal powder any longer.  It makes my head feel funny,” he grumbled.  “And when is my son going to arrive?  I thought he went for a sleepover and here it is going on two o’clock.”

        “I sent for Thorrin to bring him back, darling, but you know he goes to Mr. Lawson at one for his math lesson.  He won’t be much longer.”

        Rumpelstiltskin knew he was being silly.  He was anxious and irritable, both feelings brought on by his confinement to his bed.  He wasn’t used to being inactive and it didn’t set will with him.  He desperately needed something to do with his hands, spinning preferably, but he didn’t see himself doing that in the near future.  “It’s stifling in here, Belle.  Can’t we open a window?”

        Belle nodded to Bethany who went about opening the windows in the room to let in the breeze and then banked the fire in the hearth.  “Are you alright, Rum?  You’re not running a fever, are you?”

        He jerked away from her as she went to touch his forehead.  “I’m fine!”

        “And grouchy as a bear.  Does it make you feel better to take your irritation out on me?” she asked calmly, her face a serene mask.

        His brows drew together as he lowered his gaze to his lap, now irritated with himself.  “No.  I’m sorry.” His long fingers closed over hers, gently clasping.  “Truly, I don’t mean to be so disagreeable.”

        “Rum, I understand.  You’re in pain.”

        “It’s not just that.  I keep thinking of the things you’d planned for this week and I’m not able to do any of them stuck in this bed as I am.  I’ve never liked idleness, sweetheart,” he tried to explain.  “I’ve always worked … even when I came home from the war, injured as I was, I sat at the wheel and plied my trade.  I’ve been in this bed less than a full day and already I’m afraid I’ll go mad.”

        “We’ll figure this out, Rumpelstiltskin.”  She scooted closer to him, sliding her hands along his shoulders which tensed reflexively beneath her fingertips as she slipped them beneath his hair and massaged the base of his skull. 

        He shivered, his eyes growing heavy as his lips parted on a soft gasp.  “Belle …” he sighed.  “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

        It was her turn to shiver as his hands settled on her hips, his thumbs tracing patterns on the fabric of her gown, his heat seeping into the marrow of her bones.  She pressed her lips to his jaw, his stubble a pleasant abrasiveness against her soft skin.  “Is it anything like what you’re doing to me?” she whispered silkily, moving higher to nip at his ear.  “Do I make you feel warm, my spinner?  Does your skin ache to have me touch you?”

        He nodded jerkily, his throat working to swallow around the lump of emotion lodged there around his adam’s apple.  “Yes,” he rasped, his fingers tightening over her hips as he pulled her closer.  He hissed as she leaned a little too much against his chest, the pain in his ribs grounding him, but he didn’t care.  He wanted to feel her curves pressed to his lean lines, to feel the weight of her body against his own as it was meant to be.

        His fingers delved into her luxurious chestnut locks, his hand cradling her neck beneath her ear as his thumb stroked softly over the smooth curve of her jaw, holding her in place as he brought his lips to hers.  She met him eagerly, claiming his bottom lip and sucking gently until he lost the battle with his control and moaned desperately into her mouth.

        Belle melted against him, the ends of his hair tangling about her fingers, bracing her forearms against his shoulders to keep most of her weight off of his ribs.  “Rum …” she moaned, dizzy with the pleasure of his mouth.  It had never been this good before.  She was twenty five winters, of course she’d been kissed.  Stolen kisses by a visiting prince or a dignitary with flowery words.  She’d allowed one or two but never found what all the fuss was about.  Not until her spinner who set her every nerve ending on fire and burned her with the heat of his passion.

        His own fingers tightened in her hair as he broke the kiss and leaned away to take satisfaction in her darkened eyes and swollen lips.  “Beautiful,” he murmured appreciatively.  His gaze skated towards the connecting door where he could hear Bethany humming as she went about her duties in the next room.  He nipped again at her lower lip as he smiled.  “Belle, dearest … do you like the way I kiss you?” he asked, wondering if he was pleasing her as he’d never seemed able to please Milah no matter how valiantly he tried.

        “Oh yes, my love.  Very much,” she breathed, her heart racing with excitement.

        “And you trust me?”

        “You know that I do.”

        He brushed the tip of his nose to hers affectionately, holding her gaze.  “Give me your tongue.”

        Her eyes widened.  “What for?”

        He arched a brow in challenge, knowing his little princess was never one to back down from a challenge.  Her curiosity was sure to win out over her caution.  “So that I may taste you,” he purred, his sable eyes dark and daring her to give in.

        Belle felt her stomach somersault as she leaned in and pressed her tongue to the seam of his lips.  He wasted no time drawing it into his mouth, sucking gently, dueling softly, as he sought out the places that would make her blood sing.

        “Papa, whatcha doin’ to mama?” came a little voice from the doorway which had them springing apart guiltily.  Thorrin snickered softly behind his hand, wondering how his mistress would explain this one, more than a little amused at her flushed cheeks.

        Rumpelstiltskin was glad he’d already pulled the blanket back to cover his lap.  He didn’t want to even attempt to explain a body’s natural reaction to kissing to his seven year old child.  “Erm … well …”

        “Papa was giving mama a kiss, darling,” Belle interjected, patting the bed beside her for him to join them.  “How was the sleepover?  Did you have a good time with Abel and his family?”

        Bae crawled up onto the bed with his parents and nestled into his mama’s lap.  “It was fun.  Lord Meyerson took us out to the village to the mistral show again.  They had different puppets last night.  Why was papa kissing you?”

        “One track mind, that one,” Thorrin muttered under his breath as he flopped down onto the settee and stretched out for a nap.

        “Papa, are you gonna marry Mama Belle?  You have to be married if you’re going to kiss her, right?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper as he leaned forward and cupped his hand around his mouth.

        Belle giggled as her spinner blushed a fiery red, his mouth twisting up in a wry smirk.  “Not helping, dearie,” he snarked.

        The boy winced as he took in the sorry state of his father, from the sling to the heavily bandaged ankle to the bindings around his ribs peeking out near the lacings of his shirt.  “Wow, papa, what happened to you?  I’ve never seen so many boo boos.”  He knelt on the bed beside his father’s hip and clasped his face in his little hands, pressing a kiss to the cut at his temple.  “There, I kissed it all better. Just like you do for me, huh?”

        Rumpelstiltskin pulled his son into the crook of his arm and hugged him tightly.  “I’m much better now that you’re here, my boy.  It’s going to take a while to heal, but I’ll be good as new before you know it.”

        “I’m glad.  Now why were you kissing mama?”

        The spinner chuckled, shaking his head.  “You’re not going to let this rest, are you?  Very well.  Belle and I have some news for you … and I’m hoping it pleases you as much as it has us.”

        “You getting married?” Baelfire asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

        Belle ruffled his untidy curls.  “Is that something you would like, Bae?”

        “You would be my mama for truth.  Why wouldn’t I want that?  You love papa, right?”

        Belle gazed lovingly at her spinner.  “More than anything.  You and Rum are everything to me, darling.”

        “Then it would be good if you got married.  That way it would be ok if he kissed you,” he said with a knowing nod of his head.  “And Belle’s already my mama so it’s just right that you should marry her.” His little brow scrunched up in confusion.  “If you love her.  You love Belle, don’t you?”

        “I do.”

        “I thought so, but you never said anything.”  He leaned in and rubbed his father’s cheek.  “And she won’t be mean to you like my other mama.”

        “Oh, Bae, of course not,” he said, his eyes smarting with unshed tears.

        “May I go play with the bunnies until dinner?” he asked, looking between his parents for their approval. 

        “Yes you may, darling.”

        Rumpelstiltskin practically collapsed against the mountain of pillows at his back and groaned.  “Well, that went better than I could have hoped.”

        Belle curled up at his side and retrieved her book from the night table.  “He’s a remarkable child, Rumpel.  You’ve done such a wonderful job with him.  You should be proud.”

        “I suppose you weren’t worried at all?”

        “Of course I was.  I just hoped for the best, and I wasn’t at all disappointed,” she assured him.  “We’re going to be a family and I couldn’t be happier.”

        “Me too, love.”

        She pressed a soft kiss to his lips and found her spot in her book, settling in to read to him.  It was silently decided to give themselves a bit of time to allow their blood to cool, especially with their little one back in residence.  A little bit of normalcy in the chaos of their lives was just what was needed.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Lyssa, I can’t even get up to visit the water closet.  Give me back my bloody crutches!” Lucern roared, his leg smarting from hanging over the side of the bed for so long while he argued with his wife.

        “You big oaf, you’re lucky I don’t beat you with them,” she hissed at him from where she sat on the settee near the hearth stabbing at her embroidery in a fit of eternal pique.  “I asked you and you promised, Lucern … you _promised_ to remain in bed as the doctor advised.  Then the moment my bloody back was turned you and Gaz are gallivanting all over the palace on your sore leg.  Do you want it to become infected?  Do you want to be known as the one legged prince?  You haven’t a lick of sense at times.”

        “Oh for the love of all things holy, there’s no pleasing you, woman!” he growled, using the bedpost to lever himself off the bed.

        “Luc!  Sit down!  You’re going to pop your stitches.”

        “Then give me the bloody crutches so I can go to the water closet!”

        “Good heavens, I can hear you shouting out in the corridor.  What the hell is going on in here?” Belle asked, barging into her brother’s private chambers.

        “He won’t stay in bed,” Lyssa said defensively, knowing how the twins were when defending one another.  As much as she loved her sister in law, she hated it when she took Lucern’s side.

        “Luc?”

        “I promise I’m just going to the water closet and then I’ll be right back. Please?” he asked, casting his pleading gaze upon his wife.

        “You have ten minutes,” she snapped, rising from the settee and retrieving the crutches from her dressing room.  “Don’t make me come after you, husband.”

        Belle wrapped a comforting arm about Lyssa’s shoulders and led her back to the settee, drawing her down beside her.  “What happened, darling?  Is his confinement turning him into a beast?”

        “Dr. Cassel warned him to stay abed for the remainder of the week and at the first opportunity he was off to parts unknown,” she lamented, wringing her hands. “When Gaston returned him to his room, Lucern was pale and haggard, and –“

        “It frightened you,” Belle finished gently.  “I have to admit I was surprised to see him this morning in my apartments.  Did he tell you what he’d been up to?”

        Lyssa shook her head, her blond curls bobbing merrily about her shoulders.  “Actually … after I’d finished yelling at him, I didn’t really wish to hear his explanations.  I took his crutches from him and it’s been rather silent until just a few moments ago.”  She laid her hand over Belle’s and winced.  “I wasn’t really going to keep him from the water closet.”

        Belle embraced her warmly, rubbing a soothing hand over her back.  “I know you wouldn’t, but you really should let him explain.  I know you were only fearful for him and he really shouldn’t have been out attending to business this morning.”

        “He does sometimes let his sense of duty cloud his judgement,” Lyssa said in with a rueful grin.

        Lucern poked his head around the door, assuring himself his wife didn’t have any projectiles to launch at his head.  “Is it safe to come in?”

        Belle kissed her sister in law on the cheek and sauntered over to her brother’s side.  “Yes, darling brother, come in and _talk_ to your love.  Tell her what a noble personage you proved yourself to be this morning.”

        “You didn’t … um … you didn’t tell her?”

        “No, I think it should be your place to tell her what a wonderful man you are,” his sister teased.  “Now I have an errand – which I was on my way to do when I happened to hear all the shouting – so play nice.”

        Lyssa arched a quizzical brow at their curious behavior, notably at her husband’s flushed cheeks.  Belle bid them both goodnight and left them alone.  “What was all that about?  I thought she was angry with you.”  She bent her will enough to help him back into the bed.  The crutches were returned to her dressing room, however; just to be on the safe side.

        “I made amends with her spinner this morning, in gratitude for saving my life.  For valorous service to the crown I may have … um … given him an earldom and my sister’s hand in marriage,” he said sheepishly, toying with a loose thread on the duvet.

        “You what?” his wife asked incredulously.

        “I want her to be happy.  Yesterday, I could actually see how much she cares for him.  And as horrible as I was at breakfast before our ride, he still saved me despite his own injuries.  I didn’t want to waste a moment –“ His explanation was cut off as his wife’s lips covered his in a kiss filled with her apology, her gratitude and more than a little of her fiery passion.

        “You changed your mind,” she breathed between kisses.  “You let her choose her spinner.”  Another kiss.  He took advantage and pulled her down onto the bed beside him on his uninjured side, his strong arms trapping her against his chest.  Now that he had her, he wasn’t about to let her go.  “My wonderful prince.  I knew you were in there somewhere under your snobbish stubbornness.”

        “I’m forgiven?” he asked in a hopeful tone, nipping lightly at her lips.

        “Yes.”

        Lucern nuzzled just below her jaw where her pulse beat frantically.  “You still love me, vixen?  Even though you think I’m an oaf?”

        “I love you _because_ you’re an oaf,” she teased.  “But I promise to tie you to this bed if I catch you going farther than the water closet again.  At least until the doctor assures us you can do so without further injury.”

        “Perhaps my lovely wife can convince me to stay in bed?”

        She smiled coyly at him before her fingers twisted roughly in his chestnut hair.  “Oh I think I can make it worth your while.”

        “I’m certain you can, my love.”

 

 

 

 

       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have to say I really loved writing this chapter :D I hope you all enjoyed it as well. Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you think about it. I love reading and responding to all your comments and reviews. Next week we’ll be dealing with more issues and having them continue to open up to one another as they move closer to tying the knot. Thank you all so much for reading.


	14. Chapter 14

 

        Belle crept back into Rumpelstiltskin’s room, her eyes searching through the muted light to where her spinner lay upon his bed in a restless sleep.  The medication Dr. Cassel had left for him helped him to sleep, but he could only find limited peace from the pain.  She set the items she carried aside and went into her own room to check on her son where he awaited her in the company of Thorrin and Gerta.

        Dinner had arrived and was being served on the Terrace under the light of the harvest moon.  “Mama!  I was beginning to wonder if you were coming,” the boy said as he reached for the buttered roll Gerta set on his plate.

        “Of course, my darling.  I see you’ve already gone off for your bath,” she acknowledged, sitting down at the small table.

        “Yes, ma’am, and Thor read me a story.  Will you read one for me too?” he asked hopefully around a mouthful of peas.

        “Don’t speak with your mouth full, Bae,” she scolded gently.  “But yes, I suppose we could read before bed.  Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.  It won’t be long before we won’t be able to have meals outdoors.”

        He took a swallow of his milk and regarded her with sad eyes.  “I don’t like it that papa has to stay inside all the time.”

        “I know, darling, but it won’t be for long.  He only has to stay indoors for a week or so until he can get about on his crutches better.”

        Baelfire seemed to be happy with her answer and quickly finished his dinner.  Since Thorrin was taking him riding again with Abel the next day – sans a trip to the ruins – he didn’t give her a bit of trouble over an early bedtime. He was fast asleep before Jack had even begun to climb the beanstalk the second time.  Belle set the book of fairy tales on his shelf and assured herself Rumpel was still fast asleep before moving back to her own room to slip into her bath.

        She moaned long and low in her throat as the hot water enveloped her.  She was tempted to go down to the bathing chamber and have one of the many attendants massage the ache from her weary muscles, but she didn’t want to leave Rumpel for so long.  The idea of him waking without her there was rather unsettling.  Who could have known how strenuous it would be to care for her spinner?  Bearing his weight, fetching and carrying to make certain he had everything he needed.  It was her own fault, insisting she be the one to care for him.  She was to be his wife, after all.  It was more of a pleasure than a duty because she loved him so dearly.  A little ache wasn’t going to deter her.  Lyssa did the same for Lucern and she was no better than her sister-in-law.

        Gerta washed the princess’s hair with a rich rose and lilac scented soap, the floral fragrance a soothing balm to Belle’s frazzled nerves.  The maid helped her into a soft flannel nightgown in a dark shade of midnight blue with silver stars embroidered along the hem and the cuffs at her wrists and set her before the fire in Rumpelstiltskin’s chamber to brush out her long chestnut curls until they gleamed in the firelight.

        “Would you like me to stay and help you to bed, highness?” Gerta murmured as she set the brush aside.

        “No, dear, thank you.  I believe I can manage,” Belle smiled, covering a rather large yawn with her hand.  “Oh, and please lay out my green day dress for tomorrow, the one with the longer sleeves.  I want to visit with papa tomorrow morning when Rum is resting and I always find his apartments a bit drafty.”

        Gerta curtsied to her mistress and disappeared into Belle’s chambers, leaving the door ajar should she be needed in the night.  Belle climbed onto the mattress next to her love, cursing herself as his eyes sprang open, their sable depths filled with apprehension.  “It’s alright, my love, it’s just me,” she soothed, carding her fingers through the graying hair at his temple with gentle strokes.

        “Ugh!” he groaned, reaching down to rub at his knee.  His entire leg felt as if it were on fire.  “How long have I been asleep?”

        Belle hummed thoughtfully.  “I’m not certain.  Three or four hours perhaps.  Has your medication worn off? Are you in pain?”

        “It’s … bearable.”

        “Rum, I don’t want you to suffer,” she said, her eyes glinting with worry.

        He scrubbed his hands over his face to restore some sense of clear-headedness to his mind.  “Bae?”

        “Asleep.”

        “He didn’t say goodnight,” he frowned, staring through the gauzy curtain to watch the rise and fall of his son’s little chest.

        “Of course he did, darling.  He skipped over here and kissed your cheek before coming to bed for his bedtime story.  He wouldn’t go to bed without telling you goodnight.”

        Rumpelstiltskin relaxed, still feeling the effects of the drugs in his system.  He didn’t like the dizziness or the lassitude which settled into his muscles.  It made the pain much more bearable, but he wondered if it were worth it.  “Belle, please … help me up,” he groaned, struggling into a sitting position.

        “What is it?  Do you need the –“

        “No,” he said with a shake of his head.  “I just can’t abide lying on my back another moment.  I’ve lost feeling in my arse!”

        Belle bit her lip to stifle a giggle, hiding her face behind her long curtain of hair as she climbed off the bed and moved to his side to help lift him up.  His face was twisted with pain, one arm wrapped about his ribs, the other rubbing briskly at his knee.  She slipped back onto the bed to kneel behind him and eased her fingers along the knotted muscles in his shoulders – careful of the bruises on his left – drawing a blissful moan from his parted lips.

        “Gods, woman, you have magic in your hands,” he breathed out on a blissful sigh as he leaned into her touch.

        “Hardly,” she chuckled, pressing a light kiss to his nape.  “I just have a bit of experience with soothing aches out of weary muscles.  I used to do this for papa and Lucern when they’d return from the training field or some border skirmish.  Most times it was the only way I could get any pertinent information out of them.”

        “Has there been much need for the army here in Avonlea?” he asked curiously.

        “Not really, no,” she shook her head, concentrating on her task.  “There was some trouble with the ogres a few years ago, but Lucern and Gaston took our forces into the mountains to the south and blocked the only pass which would allow them access to the kingdom.  We haven’t been troubled since.”

        The spinner was silent for a moment, reveling in the pleasure her fingers were eliciting in his body, her soothing touch easing away some of his pain.  “Your father is a good king.  Otherwise, Avonlea wouldn’t have prospered as it has.”  He glanced at her over his shoulder.  “What is Dunsmore like?”

        A winsome smile lit her face as she met his gaze.  “Oh, Rum, you’ll love it.  The castle is much smaller than this one, and it’s surrounded by forest on one side and the sea on the other.  It’s so peaceful and open.  Baelfire will have all the space he needs to run free outdoors.  It will be a wonderful place for him to grow up.”  She leaned in and wrapped her arms about his neck from behind, pulling him back to rest against her body.  “And there is plenty of room to raise your goats and rabbits.  If you wish it, we could even get some sheep.  Luc may have made you an earl, but I know you’ll always be a spinner at heart.”

        “Does that trouble you, my Belle?”

        “No, darling. It’s one of the things I love about you,” she assured him.  “Are you hungry?  I can run down to the kitchen for some pastries.”

        He shook his head, scowling down at his pillow.  “No, as sore as I am from lying down, I think my head might clear a bit if I did.”

        Belle slipped off the bed to stand before him, not liking the way he scratched at his nightshirt.  “What’s wrong?  Are you too warm?  I have the windows open.  Dr. Cassel said it might be a side effect of the pain medication.”

        “Well, it’s not like I can strip it off with you spending so much time at my side,” he smirked.  “If not for my modesty, then for your delicate sensibilities.”

        She snorted and reached for the hem of his cotton nightshirt, easing it up over his head.  “You can put it back on in the morning.  I’m to be your wife.  I promise not to swoon away into a dead faint by seeing a bit of your body,” she teased.  “Not like I haven’t seen it already.”

        Rumpelstiltskin scratched at the bindings over his ribs once she’d tossed the shirt aside.  “Can we take these off too, then?”

        “You know we can’t.  They’re the only thing holding you together right now.  A month, the doctor said.  Surely you can hold out that long.”

        He pulled her to stand between his parted knees and wrapped his good arm about her waist before burying his face against her chest.  “I don’t mean to be a bad patient, dear heart.  I just can’t abide idleness.”

        “Then it’s a good thing I’ve brought a cure for that.”  At his expectant look, she grinned mischievously.  “And no, I’m not telling you what it is until after breakfast.  But I think you’ll like it,” she said, wrapping her arms about his shoulders as he hugged her warmly, burying her fingers in his soft hair.

        His fingers caressed the small of her back as he pressed gentle kisses along the edge of her bodice, wanting nothing more than to pull at the fabric with his teeth and worship her breasts with his mouth.  He moaned softly, his arm tightening about her waist as her nails scraped across his scalp, his skin erupting in gooseflesh.  He tensed, his muscles seizing as a fresh wave of pain traveled up his leg, and he cursed.

        “Shh, it’s ok, darling,” she crooned, reaching out to rub at his knee.  “Let’s make you more comfortable.  We’ll have time later for fun when you’re better.”

        A little whimper of a laugh escaped his throat as she pulled away and helped him lie back down.  All amusement fled as he settled onto his back.  “I can’t do this, Belle, I –“

        “Just for a moment!” she called softly over her shoulder as she hurried into her room and gathered up several pillows from her bed.  She ignored his questioning look, knowing her plan would help alleviate some of his pain, put him in a more comfortable position and hopefully give him peace enough to rest.  “Trust me, love. When I’m done you won’t have to lie on your back anymore tonight and can give it some needed respite.”

        She arranged the pillows along his left side and had him roll over, then moving another between his legs to support his injured ankle and give him a buffer.  He moaned contentedly and burrowed his face into the pillow beneath his head.  “That feels so much better.”  Belle crawled back into the bed and spooned against his back, her lips planting several sweet kisses along his nape and shoulder.  “And that feels even better.”

        Her hand ghosted over his back and very lightly over his bandaged ribs to his hip.  “There …” she cooed as he melted into her soft curves.  “Doesn’t that feel good?” 

        He jerked as her hand moved down over his cotton covered arse and gently kneaded away the soreness. “Belle!” he gasped, his cock twitching as her nails dug into the fabric, scratching lightly.

        She giggled.  “You did say you could no longer feel it.”

        “I take it back,” he hissed, his body tightening and quickening as another surge of lust shot straight to his groin.  “I feel it … I feel it.”  He arched back into her as her hand moved over his flank to the top of his thigh.

        Her deft little fingers went to work on the sore muscle, and she could literally feel the tension leaving him.  She pressed her lips to the crook of his neck, her tongue darting out to swipe over the salt of his skin.  “I love you, Rum.”  She nuzzled behind his ear, reveling in the little whimpers fighting their way from his throat.  “Show me … show me how to touch you.”

        Rumpelstiltskin made a strangled cry in his throat as her hand inched closer to his groin.  His fingers closed over her wrist in a firm grip.  “No … you shouldn’t.  Belle, I wouldn’t last two seconds if you put your hands on me right now,” he panted.  “I rather fear I’ll disappoint you on our wedding night.”

        “Rubbish!” she scoffed.  “You could never disappoint me, Rumpel.”  She rested her head on the pillow beside his and buried her face against his hair, sighing blissfully.  “I _do_ want to know what you like, my darling.  I want to know how to please you.”

        “You already do, dearest.  We have plenty of time to learn what the other likes.”

        “Am I being selfish because I’m impatient,” she asked, wrapping her arm about his waist as she pressed her body flush with his back and pulled the duvet over them.

        “Of course not, no,” he assured her.  “I’ve never had …”

        “What?”

        He sighed, but he could hold back his words no more than he could the coming winter.  “I’ve never had anyone want me the way you do, Belle.”

        She chewed her lip thoughtfully.  “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Rumpel.  I want all of you … your body, your wisdom, your heart.”  His deep sigh reverberated through her, pressed as tightly as they were.  “I’m so happy you’re to be my husband.  So thankful I won your love.”

        The spinner shook his head as he raised her hand to his lips, a silent tear splashing against her soft skin.  “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered brokenly.

        “Yes you do, Rum.”

        “No … you don’t understand,” he choked out, the breath catching in his throat.  “Everything comes with a price, Belle.  I’ve never been allowed to find happiness.  Something always comes to take it from me.  When I found Milah and made her my wife, I lost my aunts.  When I went off to war I find I’m going to be a father, but I become a coward in order to be with Bae.  I gain a son and lose a wife --”

        Belle met his panicked gaze for one brief moment before her lips slanted over his, her teeth scoring his lower lip before she sucked gently.  Her hand slipped beneath his nape to support him.  He was in enough pain without adding to it.  “Shh, love,” she breathed against his mouth as she continued to offer comfort and love through her touch.  “No one is going to take me from you.”

        “But –“

        She tugged gently on the ends of his hair, cutting him off and gaining his full attention.  “I won’t argue with you about this, Rumpelstiltskin.  Instead, let us look at what we know.  Since I’ve come into your life, what has been taken from you in exchange for your good fortune?”

        “Nothing … Yet!” he insisted. “But it will, Belle. It always does.” He turned back on his side, his shoulders slumping dejectedly.  “It’s like I’m cursed.”

        “You’re not cursed,” she scoffed.

        “It would explain a lot,” he murmured dryly.

        She giggled, trying to hide her laughter as she buried her face once again in his nape. 

        “Belle, it’s not funny!”

        “Of course not; I’m sorry, darling.  I just think it’s ridiculous that you would think yourself cursed.”  Her fingers traced soothing patterns over his chest, the motion soothing him.  “You’re a good man, Rum.  Sometimes bad things just happen, but I assure you … _nothing_ will tear me from your side.  Fate has a funny way of challenging us.  If you hadn’t had to suffer through life’s trials, would you be the man you are today?  The man I love?  You’re not cursed, my darling; you’re blessed.  It’s not every day you can find a love like we share.”

        He closed his eyes and relished the feel of her body so close to his, thankful for her warmth and love which seemed to wrap around him to chase away his dark thoughts.  He only prayed that she was right.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Bae, darling, do you have your things together?  Don’t keep Thorrin waiting too long,” Belle called to her son with an indulgent smile.  “And make sure you put Prissy and Edgar back in their pens!”

        The boy smiled brightly at his mother.  “I will, mama!” he replied, tucking a bunny under each arm and trotting off towards their pens in a corner of Belle’s terrace garden.

        “Thor, what are his plans today, dear?” she asked, sipping gingerly at her tea.

        Thorrin stood beside the wicker settee beneath her favorite peach tree and rocked back on his heels.  “Riding with young master Abel, lunch with the Meyerson’s, lessons with Mr. Lawson from one to three, fencing at four, and then back here at six to prepare for dinner,” he said, ticking off their activities on his fingers.

        “He’s going to be gone all day?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, a furrow appearing between his brows.  He rested his knitting on his lap – a gift from his Belle to keep his hands occupied – as his gaze swung back and forth between the pair.

        Belle reached over and covered his hand with hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.  “Only for this week, love, while you’re recuperating.  Next week he will be with us more when you’re able to get around better on your crutches.”

        “I can bring him back to have lunch with you, if you wish?”

        Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.  “No, I’m sure he’d rather dine with his friend,” he sighed.  “He’s so happy now … he can spend time with me later.”

        Baelfire bounded over to his father and crawled onto his lap, settling himself on his good knee.  “What’s wrong, papa?  Why are you sad?” he asked, resting his head against his father’s shoulder.

        “I’m not, son, really.  I’ll just miss you, is all,” the spinner said, dropping a tender kiss to Bae’s crown of unruly curls.

        “I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll be back soon,” he smiled.  “At least you got to come outside today.”

        Four days in bed was more than he’d been able to stand.  It had taken some pleading with his fiancée to get her to bend to his demands, but finally she’d given in.  His favorite chair had been carted out onto the terrace, along with an ottoman to prop his leg on.  It felt wonderful to be outside in the shade of the peach trees, the warm sun shining down on him through the branches and the cool autumn breeze teasing against his face.  Of course, it was even better to have Belle at his side.  She’d brought him yarn from the spinning room to use with the needles he had stored away at the bottom of his wardrobe – gifts from his aunts long ago.  She’d given up on her embroidery to learn the new craft, despite her clumsiness with the unwieldy needles.

        “Yes, so see … I will be perfectly fine until your return,” he murmured, mustering up a smile for him.

        Belle leaned in to kiss his cheek after Thorrin had led Bae of the terrace to begin their day.  “It’s still hard for you, isn’t it, darling?  Not to spend every moment with him?”

        His gaze was full of love and happy memories of time spent with his son.  “He’s always been with me, Belle.  At my side while I would spin, off to market when I’d go to sell my wares.  Even when he was a wee thing, I had a harness for him to pack him on my back.”  He shook his head, grinning sheepishly.  “Bae’s always been the one constant in my life, the one person who has never let me down or … hurt me.”

        “Oh, Rum …” she breathed, careful of his ankle as he pulled her over to sit on his lap, balancing her weight on his left leg as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

        “Until you, my princess.”  He trailed his fingertips over her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin and the love evident in her eyes.  “I thank the gods every day for you.”

        Belle leaned into his touch, bringing her lips to his.  “I love you, Rumpelstiltskin.  Never doubt it.”

        “Ah, true love … how absolutely nauseating,” came a drawling voice from the archway which led onto the terrace from Belle’s chamber.  Gaston pressed a hand to his chest over his heart and sighed dramatically before he winked at her.  “Don’t you two ever give it a rest?  At the rate you’re going we’ll be holding a wedding before your spinner can properly stand at the altar.”

        Belle rose from Rumpelstiltskin’s lap and made her way to her friend, kissing him lightly on the cheek.  “Enough of your teasing, Gaz.  Behave!” she warned, turning to the man who’d accompanied him.  “Dr. Cassel, how lovely to see you.  I wasn’t expecting you until next week.”

        Cassel bowed deeply and shook the object in his hand.  “I hadn’t planned to come so soon, highness, but I was rather excited about this.”

        She gestured them to follow her back to the makeshift sitting area in the shade of the peach tree where she could offer them a seat.  “What is it?” she asked curiously as she studied the contraption in his hands.

        “Lord Dunsmore, how are you?  Managing?” the doctor asked.

        “Better than I’d expected,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, blushing.  He was still coming to terms with having a title attached to his person.

        Belle cocked her head to the side and frowned.  “I have to say that’s the oddest looking boot I’ve ever seen.  Is it for Rumpel?”

        “It is, highness.”  He set the boot sole down on the small table and pointed to the thin rods on either side.  There was a sturdy piece of leather running from toe to top which straps were affixed to and would buckle in the back, no less than five to be exact.  “The rods will act as a splint to hold the bone in place here and here, and the straps will give added support to affix it to his leg.” He fixed the spinner with his steady gaze.  “The cobbler worked with me on this project to make it as comfortable for you as possible as your recovery is going to be long and difficult.  The bone may take anywhere from six to ten weeks to heal, but there’s no telling how long it might take for the tendons to recover.  I worry that your previous injury will slow the process.”

        Belle took the boot and examined it briefly before handing it to Rumpel for his own inspection.  “You really think this will help?  When should he begin wearing it?”

        Cassel knelt down next to the ottoman where the spinner’s foot rested and examined it, frowning at the amount of swelling in the joint.  “I’m not happy with the swelling, though it is to be expected.  Highness, I really think you should have him soak it twice a day – with the bandages on as we don’t want the bone to shift – to see if that might help.”  He looked up at Rumpelstiltskin in askance.  “You’re keeping pressure off of it, I presume?”

        The spinner nodded.  “Belle is concerned for my shoulder when I have to use the crutches.  I’m lucky if I’m allowed out of the bed to use the chamber pot,” he grumbled sourly.

        “Oh posh!” she scoffed defensively. “I’m only thinking of your well-being, darling,”

        Cassel chuckled, thinking they already sounded like an old married couple.  “Well, I can see you’re not wearing the sling, and knitting to boot,” he remarked, arching a brow at the yarn and crafting needles in Rumpelstiltskin’s lap.  “I’d say if you’re able to indulge in your hobby, you’re well enough to get about on your crutches.”  He lifted the hem of Rum’s tunic and prodded gingerly at his ribs.  “How’s the pain here? Manageable?  Still a bit tender, eh?” he asked as he noticed the wince upon the spinner’s face.

        “Aye, still tender,” he growled, frowning at the doctor.

        Gaston sat down next to Belle on the wicker settee and poured himself a cup of tea before shoving a biscuit into his mouth.  “Grufmpy af efer,” he noted amidst the crumbs falling onto his doublet.

        “Gaz, please.  Manners!” Belle reprimanded, trying to hide her amusement behind her hand.  “So, doctor, he should be able to have better mobility?  He shouldn’t be so confined to his rooms?”

        “Well, highness, I’m not saying he’s ready for tourney or one of Princess Lyssa’s grand galas, but he should be able to join the family in the hall for dinner to start.”

        The doctor gave them both a few more instructions on care, left another pouch of the powder Rumpel was to continue as needed for pain, and left the gathering to return to his practice as he had a few more patients to see that afternoon.  Rumpelstiltskin eyed the boot with trepidation, never having seen anything like it.

        “You really think this thing will help?” he asked, doubt clouding his expression.

        Gaston shrugged.  “He’s a good doctor.  Been serving the royal family since before Belle and Lucern were born.”

        “It’s really quite clever, Rum.  It might help you heal to the point where you won’t have a limp at all anymore,” Belle cooed happily, linking her fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

        Rumpelstiltskin smiled hesitantly, not wanting to chase away her smile.  “I can’t remember what it’s like to walk without it, Belle.  I don’t even know if I could.”

        “Then it’s something we can work on together.”

        The thought of being able to run after Baelfire, to stand tall next to his princess as he spoke his vows, to have both hands to support a child Belle would later give him – should the gods be so willing to bless them – instead of having to use one to balance upon his cane … it was too much to even contemplate. Yet, he would do anything for his family.  “Aye, my love, together.”

        Gaston clapped his hands as he set his cup down and rose to his feet.  “Wonderful!  Now that everything’s settled, I get to tell Lucern the good news.”

        “About Rum’s progress?” Belle asked, wondering why her friend would be so excited about that.

        “Course not, love … I get to tell him it’s time.”

        “Time for what?” the spinner asked, more than a little puzzled.

        The knight grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes.  “Time for another feast, of course.  It’s time to celebrate.”

        Belle gaped, having forgotten about her brother’s desire to celebrate Rumpelstiltskin’s bravery and elevation in status.  Not to mention their betrothal.  Her poor love, she thought sympathetically as he rested his head back against his chair and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.  He was shy … something he’d have to let go of if he were to take his place at her side.  She’d do her best to soothe his fears and ease his way.  And the gods have mercy on anyone who thought to ridicule or scorn him … because _she_ would not.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, it seems things are moving along for our lovely princess and her spinner. I can’t wait to see how the proper treatment will benefit his recovery :D Next week Rum is introduced to the court as the Earl of Dunsmore. I wonder if someone will make the mistake of shunning him in Belle’s presence. That should prove interesting.
> 
>  
> 
> Have any of you read my story “Her Little Secret”? Well, my dear friend – Kindleheartzyou – has written an inspired by fic in this verse called “Unexpected News”. I highly recommend it, my darlings! Show her some love and give it a read :D


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains a wee bit of smut towards the end :D

        Belle stared fretfully at the young knight as he raked a hand through his short-cropped hair, his gaze filled with remorse.  “Thor, please, dear, just calm down and tell me what happened.  Then we will decide whether or not to panic,” she said as calmly as she could.

        Thorrin nodded and took a deep breath.  Baelfire was his charge and he took his duty seriously, but he’d come to love the little lad and his emotions were getting in the way.  He needed his wits about him.  He needed to act like the knight he was instead of some doting older brother.  “The young master was playing on the portico off the library.  You know how he likes to hide from Mr. Lawson,” he added with a wan smile.  “His tutor asked me to help him retrieve the globe from the upper level and when I came back … Bae was missing.”

        “Did you search the library?” she asked, wringing her hands.

        “I did, highness; Mr. Lawson and I both.  When it was evident he wasn’t to be found there, I went to Gaston and he dispatched the guard to search the palace.”

        Belle fidgeted, her fingers twisting and twining as panic began to build in her chest.  Rumpelstiltskin wasn’t going to be happy about this at all.

        “Should we tell Rum – “

        “Good heavens, no!” she interjected, cutting him off.  “My poor Rumpel has enough pressure on him at the moment.  Especially with the feast tomorrow night.”  She’d managed to cajole her brother into postponing the event for two weeks – to give them both a bit of time to recuperate from their more minor injuries – and Rumpel had been fretting about it ever since.  “Besides, we don’t want to interrupt his meeting with Lucern.  It’s not easy to put aside an entire lifetime as a peasant to be thrown into the role of a noble.”

        “But, highness –“

        “No!  We’ll handle this ourselves and tell him after the fact.  There is no reason he should have to feel that anxiety when he’s suffering enough already.”

        Lucern had taken it upon himself to get to know his future brother in law in the only means he knew how … by teaching him everything there was to know about the property included in Belle’s dowry and his responsibilities towards their tenants.  There was also proper etiquette to be learned … which piece of flatware to be used with which course, the proper way to bow to different members of the peerage, the correct address to the myriad titles of the courtiers.  It had given him a headache on more than one occasion.

        Belle groaned in frustration.  “It will be a miracle if one of those simpering maids from the kitchen staff hasn’t gotten wind of this and run off to tell him all about it.”

        Thorrin bit back a grin.  More than once the princess had had no qualms in telling the staff to stop ogling her betrothed.  “Then we’d best hurry,” he said encouragingly.

        Belle mounted the stairs which led into the castle proper from the kitchens and nearly collided with Gaston as he rounded the corner.  Baelfire was slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour and he had Abel Myerson by the scruff of his neck.  “Gaz!  Oh thank the gods!” she exclaimed.  “Where did you find them?  I should have known you’d find them together.”

        The knight shot her a cheeky grin.  “Where they had no business being of course.”  He set Bae down on the carpeted runner covering the polished marble floor and turned him to face his mama.  “I think I’ll let him tell you where he was.”

        “It was an accident, Mama, truly!” he cried defensively.

        Abel – finally free of the knight’s grip on his collar – came to stand beside his friend.  “It was my fault –“

        Bae shook his head.  “No, it was mine!”

        “It was my fault, highness.  I knew it was time for Bae’s lesson, but I thought it would be more fun to play hide and seek and –“

        Belle looked them both over as they continued to argue back and forth, taking note of the leaves and bits of flower petals clinging to their hair and clothing.  “It looks as though you both fell into the rose bushes,” she said mildly, brushing them off.

        “Try again, love,” Gaston drawled, trying not to laugh.

        Belle shot him a disgruntled look before turning back to the two boys.  “Where were you if not in the garden?  I’ll have you know, you worried everyone sick.  I had my entire guard searching for you.”

        Baelfire and Abel shared a look before hanging their heads.  The Myerson lad scuffed the toe of his boot against the carpet, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.  “We were playing in the formal dining room, highness.”

        The princess blanched, casting a worried gaze up at Gaston.  He winced, confirming her suspicions.  “The formal –“

        “Mama, it was an accident … promise,” Baelfire wailed, tears welling in his big brown eyes.  “I tripped over the rug and Abel came to help me up and he tripped too and we fell into one of the pedestals holding the flowers and it tipped over and –“

        “It set off a chain reaction the likes of which you’ve never seen,” Gaston chortled.  “There are roses and potting soil EVERYWHERE!”

        Belle pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.  “Gaz, enough!” she scolded.  “It’s not funny.  A lot of work went into the preparations for the feast and now the servants will have to start all over again.”  She eyed the children, her lips pressed into a firm line of irritation.  “Boys, where is the one place you were warned not to venture?”

        “The formal dining room,” they answered in unison.

        “Not only have you disobeyed, but you blew off your lessons, _and_ worried everyone when we couldn’t find you.  What do you think I should do about this little problem? Hmm?”

        The boys shrugged, chancing worried glances up at her beneath a fringe of dark lashes as their shoulders drooped dejectedly.  “Please don’t tell papa,” Bae whispered, his little hands fidgeting with a button on his shirt.

        Belle shook her head.  “Oh, I promise I won’t tell, Bae … _you_ will.”

        “But, mama!”

        “No buts,” she interjected, holding up a silencing hand.  “In the meantime, however, the two of you will be helping the servants clean up the mess _you_ made.  Hopefully, this will teach you a lesson in following rules that aren’t meant to be broken.”

        Thorrin squared his shoulders as he took a step forward.  “I think I’ll help too, highness.  It was my fault Bae was unsupervised.”

        Belle nodded and dropped to a knee to be eye level with her son.  “Darling, I’m not mad at you.  I want you to understand that, ok?  But you _must_ always take responsibility for your actions … especially when you’ve done wrong.  This is how we learn.”

        Baelfire threw his arms about her neck and rested his head on her shoulder.  “I love you, mama,” he murmured, holding tightly to her.  “I promise to be good from now on.”

        Belle squeezed back, rubbing her hands over his back in soothing strokes.  “I love you too, my darling boy … always.  That will never change.”  She pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled as he pulled away to go with his guard.  “Now, run along and try to stay out of mischief.”

        Gaston arched a brow as he offered a hand to help her rise.  “That was quite a mild punishment for the destruction they caused.”

        “They’re only seven, Gaz,” she said in her own defense.  “What did you expect? For me to send them to the stables to muck out the stalls?”  She bit on her lip thoughtfully.  “I’m just hoping Rum isn’t too upset about me disciplining Bae.  We haven’t talked about it at all.”

        Gaston lifted one heavily muscled shoulder in a shrug.  “Well, it’s not like you can avoid the issue any longer.”

        “No, I suppose not.”  Belle left her friend there in the corridor to return to the salon where Lyssa awaited her.  They still had a guest list for the wedding to assemble.  Hopefully, she would be able to stave off her worries with the odious task.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin took it slow – unable to do anything but, still on crutches as he was – carefully making his way back to his chambers.  His head was spinning, his stomach empty – having skipped lunch after Lucern’s latest prank – and he needed to see his family.  Things just always seemed better when he could share them with Belle and Bae.  Merrick – the knight Belle had assigned to dog his steps – opened the door for him and he breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be back in his sanctuary, the one place where he felt safe and loved.

        His princess was there to greet him, flinging her arms around him.  “I’m so glad you’re back,” she cooed softly, peppering his jaw with a myriad of delightful kisses which had the stresses of the day sluicing away. “I missed you.”

        “I missed you too, dearest,” he murmured, burying his face against her hair, breathing in her floral fragrance.  “I miss being with you all day.”

        She led him over to the sofa set before the hearth and propped his foot up on an ottoman.  “Luc means well, Rumpel.  He knows I could teach you what you need to learn, but this is his way of trying to get to know you.  We can’t deny him,” she giggled.  “He means well.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s stomach growled loudly as Gerta brought in their supper tray and set it on the coffee table.  Belle’s eyes widened as her love blushed furiously.

        “Was that your stomach?  Did you not have lunch today?”

        “Let’s just say I will never have need to know what fork is used for es …” His brow furrowed.  “Escar … bloody damn, it was snails, Belle!  Who eats garden pests?  There are a lot of things I’ve eaten in my life due to necessity, but I have never resorted to eating bugs!”

        Belle busied herself with the tray, uncovering their meal to find a sumptuous pot roast with potatoes, carrots and wild rice.  “Well, there’s nothing unusual about our dinner, so tuck in,” she said, handing him his plate and cutlery.  “Escargot is a delicacy, love.  Lucern simply adores it.”

        “After I realized what it was, I lost my appetite,” he mumbled around a mouthful of potato.  He moaned softly as he bit into the hot yeasty roll Belle handed him, slathered in butter. 

        She settled in beside him, her eyes brightening.  “There are places in the Far East which think beetles are a delicacy.  They can sometimes grow to the size of my hand,” she intoned, trying to remember some of the things she’d read.  “Snakes, sheep’s eyes … those are quite good I’m told cooked up in a tomato broth.”

        Rumpelstiltskin groaned, his fork dropping to his plate as he shot her a look of disgust.  “Belle, love … please, not while I’m eating.”

        “I’m sorry, darling,” she apologized, her lips twitching with mirth.  “We had a maharaja visit once who thought our diet here was rather unorthodox.  He was a fascinating dinner companion though.”

        “It’s after six,” he said, setting his empty plate back on the tray.  “Baelfire is late.”

        Belle looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.  “Yes, h-he’s … um, having dinner in the kitchen this evening before Thorrin takes him to the baths.  He got into a spot of trouble today.”

        The spinner nearly dropped the full tankard of mead as he clumsily set it down on the table.  “W-What kind of trouble?  Is he hurt?  Why didn’t you come tell me?” he asked, his eyes widening in panic.

        “Rumpel, I promise he’s fine,” she assured him.  “I told him I would let him tell you all about it when he returned tonight.”

        He reached for his crutches and levered himself to his feet, unable to sit still despite the pain he was in.  “No, Belle, I think I’d like to know now!”

        Belle took a deep breath, her gaze lowering to her fidgeting hands.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so upset and it just made her feel worse for keeping the events of the day hidden from him.  She began by telling him about Baelfire going missing and the color drained from his face, his breathing hitching and stuttering from his throat.

        “M-Missing!  And you didn’t think I’d want to know my son was lost?!” he roared.

        Belle winced.  “Rum, I had our knights searching everywhere for him.  There aren’t many places in the palace he can hide where they won’t be able to find him.  And he _was_ found.”

        “But?  I can hear a _but_ in there, Belle,” he growled through clenched teeth.  “And where the hell was Thorrin?  He’s supposed to be protecting Baelfire.  How –“

        She rose to her feet and went to stand beside him by the hearth, reaching out a calming hand to comfort him.  She could practically feel the anger radiating beneath his warm skin.  “Rumpel, it wasn’t his fault.  He was helping Mr. Lawson prepare for the lesson and Abel coaxed Bae into the game.  They’re children.  They’re going to get into mischief at one time or another.”

        “It’s no excuse!”

        “Rum …”

        He pulled away from her, pacing in his agitation.  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.  How difficult would it have been to send a runner to find me?”

        “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, darling,” she murmured softly.  “But I handled it.  He and Abel had a wee accident in the formal dining room and tipped over all the flowers which had been brought in for the feast tomorrow night.  Don’t worry, though; their punishment was light.  I had them spend the afternoon helping the servants set the room to rights.”

        His eyes narrowed dangerously on her.  “You punished him, too?!”

        “Well, of course I did.  He has to learn to take responsibility –“

        “You had no right!”

        Belle stood her ground in the face of his anger, her hands balling into fists to quell her temper.  “I had _every_ right.  He’s my son, Rumpel.”

        “No!  He’s _my_ son, my responsibility!”  He was shouting now, his upset taking precedence over his good sense.

        A single tear slid down over her pale cheek as she stared at him.  “Is that really how you feel?”

        He stumbled back as he took note of her tears, a look of betrayal on her face.  “Belle, no I’m –“

        “Goodnight, Rumpelstiltskin,” she choked out, hurt beyond measure.  Turning on her heel, she made her way to the door which joined his room to hers, closing it quietly behind her.  He winced as the latch clicked, over loud in the quiet room.

        He hobbled over to the door and rested his brow on the cool wood.  In all the time he’d been with her, that door had never been closed to him.  And now he’d hurt his little love, hurt her heart, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so miserable.  He’d let his distress get the better of him and lashed out at the one person who didn’t deserve to witness his ire.

        “Papa?”

        Rumpelstiltskin pushed himself away from the door, turning to find Thorrin and Baelfire standing just inside the room, freshly scrubbed and dressed in his pajamas.  Thorrin bowed out, closing the door behind him as the boy hurried across the room to throw his arms about his father’s waist, his large brown eyes wide with worry.  “Bae …”

        “Why did you shout at Mama?  Don’t you love her no more?” he asked, having come in on the tail end of his parents’ argument.

        “What?” Rumpelstiltskin gasped.  “Of course I still love Belle.”  He sat down heavily on the padded stool next to his spinning wheel.  “I just overreacted to something she told me and … I stuck my big foot in my mouth and hurt her feelings.”

        Bae sat down on the floor and rested his chin on his father’s good knee.  “Like my other mama used to do to you?”

        His son couldn’t have said anything to have made him feel any worse.  “Yeah,” he groaned.

        “But you said we shouldn’t talk that way to people we love, papa.”

        “I know that.”

        “Then why did you do it?”

        “Bae …”

        “Are you going to apologize?”

        The spinner ruffled his son’s unruly curls and huffed a short laugh.  “Yes, I am.  How did you ever get to be so wise?” he asked, awe in his voice making his brogue thicker than usual.

        Baelfire shrugged.  “Because I pay attention when you tell me stuff,” he said with a solemn nod.  “Now why were you shouting at mama?  Did she tell you I got in trouble today?”

        “She did,” he said, mustering a stern tone.  “And I am very disappointed that you skived off your lessons with Mr. Lawson in order to play with your friend.”

        “I’m sorry, papa.  Mama made us clean up in the dining room,” he whispered conspiratorially.  “Don’t tell her, but we had more fun helping to clean than we did with our game.”

        Rumpelstiltskin hugged his son close to his heart as he pulled him onto his lap.  “I won’t, son.  I promise.  But I do want you to mind your manners and follow the rules she’s set for you.  Not only do they keep you safe, but they are teaching you your new place in this society.  Do you understand?”

        “Yes, papa.”

        “Alright, off to bed with you,” he smiled, unable to help himself.  “And no story tonight, son.”

        “Awww, papa,” he groaned, but went off to bed as he’d been told with a kiss to his brow.  All was quiet before he ducked his dark head around the curtain which separated his little bedroom from Rumpel’s.  “When are you gonna apologize to mama?”

        “Bae!”

        “G’night, papa. Love you!” he called, leaping into his bed without further comment.

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed wearily.  “Good night, my boy.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle rolled over onto her side, the side which faced away from the door she’d been watching for the better part of an hour.  She buried her face in her pillow, clutching another to her chest as tears continued to course down her ashen face.  She’d held herself together long enough to allow Gerta to help her with her bath, foregoing her evening pot of tea in favor of her tears.  She couldn’t allow it to remain pent up.  It would only fester and grow and she didn’t want that.  It was his fear getting to him, she knew.  Though it hadn’t hurt any less, knowing that.  She should have followed her first instincts to tell him instead of keeping it from him.  But she’d wanted to show him she could be Bae’s mother without him there at her side to supervise.  She was a princess, with all the duties and responsibilities which came along with the title.  She was more than capable of taking care of one small boy.

        Yet, she’d known … she’d known he would take it badly and she’d done it anyway.  _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_  she cursed inwardly.  Maybe she should apologize … No! She’d done nothing wrong.  Then why did she feel so guilty?  And she missed him terribly.  She missed the feel of his body pressed flush with hers as she drifted off to sleep.  She missed the little snuffling noises he made in his sleep and the way his arms would tighten reflexively about her.  Oh why wouldn’t he come and apologize so she could curl up next to him and find comfort in his arms once more?  _Stubborn man!_

        Belle pummeled her pillow, taking out her anger and frustration on the down-filled bedding.  It wasn’t often she was denied something she really wanted.  And what she truly wanted was her spinner.  As much as she loved her family, nothing in her life had prepared her for the true and abiding love she shared with Rumpelstiltskin.  She shivered as the tears began in earnest once more.  Her petite frame shook with her sobs, trembled from her weeping.  So much in fact, she didn’t hear the door opening or the thumping of crutches on the carpet.

        She muffled a scream as he reached out to touch her shoulder.  “Belle, dearie?” he whispered, and she bit down on her lip, forcing herself to calm.  She rolled onto her back, staring silently up at him in the semi-darkness, trying to make out his features.  She didn’t say a word, merely held the blankets up so he could slide in beside her.  They wouldn’t be able to talk loudly with Gerta asleep in the next room, and it was becoming too chilly at night to take their conversation to the terrace.

        Rumpelstiltskin winced as he climbed onto her bed and dragged his battered ankle in behind him.  It was a small discomfort to the larger one lodged in his chest caused by the knowledge that he’d hurt her.  He dragged her into his arms as she continued to stare up at him, her watery gaze filled with wariness.  “Oh, Belle … I’m so sorry.  I swear I didn’t mean it.”

        “Then why would you say such a thing?” she whispered brokenly.

        He pressed his lips to her brow for a long moment, reveling in the fact that she hadn’t yet pushed him away, that he hadn’t completely ruined things between them with his hasty words and twisted tongue.  “I was afraid.  Sometimes, it seems that’s all I ever am … afraid.  For so long, I’ve been the only parent to my son.  I … I felt as though you’d taken that away from me.”

        “Rumpel, I would never do that.  I just wanted to help.  I didn’t want you to worry needlessly,” she tried to make him understand. 

        He smoothed a hand over her tangled curls, relishing the softness as it ran silkily through his fingers.  “I know, dearest, and I reacted horribly.  Milah tried to run with him when Bae was three, and this incident brought back that panic, that fear of losing him.  I know it’s no excuse for lashing out at you, but please … please forgive me, Belle.”

        She wrapped her arms around him, careful of his still tender ribs beneath the bandages, and nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in.  “I love you, Rum.  Of course I forgive you, but you hurt me terribly.  Please don’t do that again.”  She kissed the underside of his jaw, his stubble scratching pleasantly against her lips.  “I’m not Milah, my love.  I’m not going to take Bae away from you.”

        “I know,” he choked out, shivering as her hand crept beneath his nightshirt to stroke his belly.  “I’m trying, Belle … I promise.  You _are_ Bae’s mother as far as I’m concerned.  More than Milah ever was, and I _am_ sorry I made you think otherwise.”  The taut muscles in his belly leapt reflexively beneath her tentative touch.  “I-I never meant to hurt you.”

        Her hand crept higher, coming to rest over his heart.  “I love you, Rumpelstiltskin … so much.  Don’t be afraid to let me in, to know you.  Don’t be afraid to talk to me.”

        “I want to … I do.  It’s just difficult when I’ve never had anyone to share things with before.”  His breath caught as her nails scraped lightly over his flat male nipples, leaving him breathless and aching.  “I will try to be more open with you, dearest.”

        Belle’s hand curled around his nape to pull his head down, her lips soft and pliant against his.  “I missed you,” she whispered, her breath sweet and warm as it fanned his face. 

        His arm wrapped firmly about her waist, pulling her flush against his body with more vigor than he’d intended, causing them both to moan from the sheer pleasure of contact.  Warm wet kisses, breathy sighs and the need growing between them was all that was important at the moment.  “It was only three and a quarter hours, sweetheart … but it felt like an eternity,” he murmured throatily, rolling onto his back and pulling her atop him.

        She gasped, feeling his hardening length pressing into her belly.  He was giving her control and the knowledge filled her head with dizzy delight.  Her fingers went to work on the buttons lining the front of his sleeping shirt, sliding each one through the button holes until it parted and she was able to splay her hands on his warm skin.  The bandages still bound his ribs, but there was much of him left bare to her itching fingers and petal lips.

        Belle sat up, a low moan in her throat as she pressed her heated core against his cloth covered cock.  It stole her breath as fire burned hot in her veins.  The wedding was still over a month away, but damned if she wanted to wait.  Especially when her love was chanting her name on a breathy whisper as if she were a goddess and he her only supplicant.  His eyes were mere slits of dark need as he watched her rock against him, his head thrown back in abandon as his fingers curled over her hips to steady her.

        “Rum – Rumpel … “ she fairly growled his name as she pressed her hips harder to his.  She pulled roughly at the hem of her nightdress, her skin hot against the silk, and she wanted to be rid of it.  She wanted his hands touching her bare skin as she did his.  She wanted nothing separating them now.

        His fingers wrapped loosely over her wrists.  “Belle, what are you doing, love?” he panted.  They were going too fast, he knew.  Much too fast with the wedding so far in the distance.  They didn’t need to chance her becoming pregnant before they were legally bound.  It would cause a scandal, and she nor her family deserved that.  “Belle, stop.”

        Her face fell into a mask of disappointment.  “Why?” she whined.  “You’re to be my husband in six weeks.”  She ground her hips down again and he couldn’t suppress the hiss which issued past his teeth.  “And it’s not like you’re not enjoying yourself.”

        “I didn’t say that, now did I?” he growled.  “But do you really want a wee babe not even eight months after we wed?”

        She shook her head.  “No, I plan to be rather selfish after the wedding,” she purred, leaning over to press a kiss to his belly.  “I want you all to myself, and I’ll only share you with Bae.”

        His groan turned quickly into a whimper as her lips continued a downward path towards the waistband of his cotton trousers.  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

        Belle glanced up with a coy grin before she shook her head slowly.  “I just want to touch you, Rum.”

        Rumpelstiltskin sighed, staring at her a long moment, knowing he was going to give in, but it would be on his own terms.  “There’s not much we can do with my injuries taking their own sweet time to heal … but I can still bring you pleasure, dear one.  _If_ … you’re adventurous enough?”

        His princess bit her lip, thoroughly intrigued, if not by his words, then his tone in that lovely brogue so deep and thick with desire.  “I trust you,” she said, nodding her acquiescence. 

        His hands ghosted slowly from her hips and along her thighs over the cool silk of her gown.  He yearned to have her naked beneath him, but this would do for now.  He urged her off of his lap and sat up to remove his shirt and toss it to the floor.  “Kneel,” he commanded, moving the pillows out of the way.  “Put your hands on the headboard.”

        Her breath hitched in excitement as she hastened to obey.  When she’d done as he asked, she met his gaze in askance, her heart hammering loudly in her ears.  “What are you going to do to me?”

        As confident as he’d become over the last few months, he still couldn’t keep the blush from his cheeks.  Milah had been repulsed by his clumsy efforts at lovemaking, so why would Belle be any different?  Then again, his former wife had never responded to his touch as Belle did.  Yet, he couldn’t deny her because he was afraid.  That wasn’t who he was anymore.  After what had happened earlier, he couldn’t allow his fear to guide his every action.

        “Rum … are you alright?”

        “Yes, dearest,” he assured her as he moved behind her.  He was careful of his ankle and putting too much weight on his battered ribs as he laid down on his side and skimmed a hand up her thigh beneath the hem of her gown.  It only encouraged him as she sucked in a sharp breath.  It was joined by a little whimper as he continued his upward path to the sweet swell of her arse.  A grin curved his lips as he noted the absence of undergarments.  “Are you ready, my Belle,” he asked, the gown inching upwards with his hand.

        “Yes!” she moaned, twisting a bit to try to see him over her shoulder.

        “Very well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of her spine as he bared it to his view.  “Remove your gown.”

        She blushed a startling shade of pink, but she did as he bid, tossing the garment to the floor beside his shirt.  She braced her hands against the polished wood headboard once more, her breathing heavy with anticipation.  Her whole retinue of guards couldn’t have pried her hands loose if they’d tried.  Nothing would deny her his long awaited touch.  However, she was forced to muffle a shriek as he shifted around for a moment and then his head appeared between her legs.

        “Rumpel!”

        “Relax, sweetling,” he cooed, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of her knee as his arms wrapped around her thighs.  “If I do anything you don’t like … tell me and I’ll stop.”

        Mouth dry, her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she stared down into his eyes, searching his gaze.  Finally, she nodded her consent.  His lips trailed along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, first one and then the other, and she trembled, little sparks of need pooling low in her belly.  His soft lips and the scratch of his stubble were a delicious contrast against her smooth skin.  She watched him warily as he spread her wider, bringing her lower as his mouth inched ever closer to her already dripping folds.

        Rumpelstiltskin stopped, taking a moment to breathe her in, her arousal heady and thick.  His mouth watered with the need to taste her, to devour her.  She tensed, her muscles tightening as his tongue swept along her cleft, but he didn’t dare stop, not until he heard the words commanding him to do so.  He pressed deeper, searching for the little bundle of nerves above her entrance.  She felt like heaven and tasted of the sweetest nectar and his cock swelled painfully.  The knowledge that she belonged to him, that no one had ever seen her so disheveled and vulnerable, more powerful than any aphrodisiac

        He lapped at her core earnestly, artlessly with unpracticed movements, but his Belle didn’t care.  She panted, her nails leaving grooves in the wood beneath her hands as her hips began to move.  He’d withdraw and she’d follow until she’d found a rhythm she liked, moving steadily against his wriggling tongue.  He concentrated on her clit, slowly circling as he traced the curve of her arse with his hands, urging her to move faster.  She gasped as he slid a lone finger into her, her inner walls clenching about it.  She was past the point of wanting him to stop now.

        He reached down with his other hand, pressing his palm to his aching cock, praying he could hold off his own orgasm long enough for Belle to reach hers.  He crooked his finger inside her, the digit on a mission to discover that place inside her that begged for his attention as her hips moved faster against his tongue.  Her movements were erratic now and still he worked her tirelessly.  He knew she must be close, he himself was barely holding back. 

        Belle whimpered, biting her lip bloody, frustrated as she climbed her peak ever higher. She could feel the ache within her, the pressure in her belly nearly unbearable.  All she needed was one final push.  “Rumpel …” she whined, her pleasure just within her grasp.

        Rumpelstiltskin closed his lips over her, his tongue curling around her clit, his teeth following in a gentle scrape.  It was more than she could bear and she spiraled over the precipice, her body convulsing in tremors as she embraced her pleasure; a pleasure only her spinner could give her. 

        His body jerked reflexively, his own climax rushing out of him as her warmth flooded his mouth.  She collapsed weakly against the cool wood of the headboard as he continued to drink from her until he’d savored every last drop of her essence.  Finally, he slid out from under her and moved to her side, pulling her into the circle of his arms.

        “Are you alright?  Belle?”

        She gazed up at him languidly, her body sated and replete.  “That was … that was amazing.”

        “Really?” he asked, a crooked grin adorning his lips.

        “Mmhm,” she hummed, nestling into his embrace.  “You’re wonderful, Rumpelstiltskin.  Every inch of you.”

        He pressed a kiss to her brow and eased out of the bed, reaching for his crutches.  He held up a hand before she could protest.  “Don’t fret, sweetling, I’m just going to check on Bae and clean myself up a bit.”  He leaned in once more to kiss her.  “I’ll be back in a moment.”

        She took her gown from his outstretched hand and hurriedly pulled it over her head.  Having Bethany find her without a stitch on in the morning would just bring questions she had no intention of answering.  “Hurry back,” she called softly, watching his slow progress to the door.

        She was asleep before he returned to her, his body wrapping protectively around her sleeping form.  Their fight all but forgotten, replaced by a new memory, one of many they would create together, he drifted off to join her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, dearies! I apologize for not posting last week, but I got caught up in my RSS and couldn’t stop until it was finished. I hope you all like it. I can’t wait until I get to post it :D Not to mention the holiday totally kicked my ass. I really hate adulting. Anyhoo! Did you enjoy the chapter? Next week, we’re moving on to the feast. Since I haven’t written he chapter yet, I really don’t know what I can tell you. We’ll just have to see what develops. If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know. Hope you all have a great weekend.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh! I nearly forgot this week’s fic recommendation. Check out ‘Belle’s Sacrifice’ by Ethereal Wishes over on ffnet. I prompted her to write this little fix it after last week’s episode. It’s fab!!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

        Belle smiled in her sleep, snuggling further into the warmth her spinner provided, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, and  his leg thrown over both of hers like the giant squid of lore.  Everything was right with her world now that they’d talked, more issues settled between them making her feel much more confident in their relationship.  She’d almost dozed off again when she felt a slight tug on her long chestnut hair which was spread out across the pillows.

        “Mama!” came an urgent whisper, a hint of amusement in the small voice.  “Mama,” followed by a giggle.

        She cracked one eye open and grinned at her son.  “Bae,” she breathed, always happy to see him, even when he was intruding on her rest.  She lifted the edge of the coverlet, silently inviting him onto the bed to snuggle with her.  Of course he had no intention of going back to sleep.

        “Mama, why is papa sleeping in your bed?  When the snows come, can I sleep with you too?” he asked with his innocent charm, melting her heart.  “Papa used to sleep with me instead of my other mama when it got too cold.”

        Belle kissed the tip of his nose and tickled his belly, causing him to give a delightful squeal.  “Well, my love, there’s no reason to sleep with anyone for warmth here in the palace.  We have plenty of wood for our hearth to keep us warm, don’t we?  But you’re always more than welcome to come abed with us.”

        “Uh-huh,” he nodded, burrowing against her.  “You’re not mad at papa anymore?”

        “Oh, Bae, I wasn’t angry with your father.  He just said something which hurt my feelings, but we’ve talked about it and we’re fine,” she explained.  She could just imagine how many bad memories their argument must have dredged up for him.

        “So, you’re still going to marry him and be my mama?  I don’t want you to leave us.”

        Tears smarted at the back of her lids and she could feel Rumpelstiltskin tense in wakefulness, hearing his son’s worried voice.  Belle cuddled him close, clutching Bae tightly as Rumpel’s arm covered hers, holding them both.  “Belle’s not going to leave us, son,” he murmured reassuringly.

        “I love you, sweetheart,” she said, dropping a kiss to his brow.  “And I love being your mother.  I’d never leave you.”

        His little fingers toyed with the ribbon at the front of her gown, his lip wobbling.  She could see tears pooling in his big sable eyes.  “My other mama said she loved me too … but she left, she didn’t want us anymore,” he said, the last barely more than a whisper.

        Belle seethed with suppressed rage at the other woman, not understanding how anyone could treat her family as Milah had treated hers.  She pulled out of Rumpelstiltskin’s embrace and helped Baelfire scoot between them.  He sighed happily, sandwiched between his parents.

        “Bae, never think for a moment that you aren’t loved,” Rumpel said, rubbing soothing circles over the boy’s back.  “You’re surrounded by love every day.  Your mother does love you in her own way … she just had a hard time expressing her emotions.”

        He caught Belle’s eye to find tears coursing over her cheeks and he reached out to pull her deeper into their cocoon, tugging the coverlet over their heads.  Bae giggled.  “See, darling,” the princess chimed.  “We’re warm and safe and happy in our own little nest where nothing and no one can steal away your happiness.  And soon, your papa and I will be married and we’ll move to Dunsmore castle.”

        “Can Thorrin come too?” he asked, grinning at her over his shoulder. He really didn’t care where they lived as long as they were all together. “And the bunnies and goats?”

        Belle hugged him.  “Yes, my little love.  They can come too.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle yawned hugely as she left the bed an hour later and tied her dressing robe about her.  Rumpelstiltskin kept the grumbling to a minimum as he made his way over to the sitting area by the hearth and added a pinch of the medicinal powder Cassel had given him to a glass of water.  She nodded to Bethany setting out their breakfast before poking her head out onto the terrace to check on Baelfire where he was playing and talking gently with his rabbits.  The sky was already bright, not a cloud in the sky.  It was a perfect day for feasting.

        She sighed as she rejoined her love, taking a seat on the settee and reaching for the tea pot.  Her smile fell as she raised her gaze to her spinner and noticed the tight lines of stress at the corners of his mouth.  “What is it, love?” she asked, handing him the cup she’d prepared.  “Are you in pain?”

        “N-No,” he was quick to wave her off before she could fiddle with his tightly wrapped bandages.  “I’m fine, sweetheart, really.”

        “Mmhm,” she hummed dubiously.  “And this … _nothing_? Is it the reason your cup is about to rattle right off of its saucer?”

        The spinner looked down at his noisy cup and laid his hand over the top of it, grinding his teeth in vexation. 

        She set her cup down and adopted a casual demeanor as she lifted the covers and peered inside to see what Mrs. Potts has sent to break their fast.  “You know that entire misunderstanding could have been avoided yesterday if I had talked to you about my worries with Baelfire.  Are we going to have a repeat of that episode because you won’t talk to me?”  He peeked up at her soulfully from beneath a dark fringe of lashes and she felt her heart pick up speed.  Gods, if only he knew what he could do to her with just a simple look, she thought, surreptitiously tucking her hand beneath her so she wouldn’t be tempted to fan herself.

        “I-I was thinking, my Belle … um … would Lucern really be so disappointed if we d-didn’t go to the feast tonight?” he asked, hope largely evident in his tone.

        “Rum, darling, Luc has been looking forward to introducing you to the court for almost three weeks now.  And you know he wants to formally announce our engagement.  We really can’t disappoint him.”  She set a sticky bun and some sausage links before him on the table as Bethany went to call Baelfire in to eat.  “It’s only natural for you to be cast into the spotlight, love, what with your having saved his life, but it’s not like you haven’t been to a feast before.”

        “As a servant, Belle,” he groaned.

        She grimaced involuntarily before she could hide it behind a confident smile.  “Is that what you’re worried about, my darling?  That someone will say something derogatory about your former position as my servant?”

        He grumbled under his breath as he slumped back and sipped at his tea, ignoring the food she’d prepared for him.  If he tried to eat, as nervous as he was, it was likely to come right back up.

        “I’m sorry,” she retorted cheekily.  “I didn’t catch that.”

        “They’re going to make fun of me, Belle.”

        Belle’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “They wouldn’t dare.”

        “They will!  You’ve seen how they are amongst each other,” he spat in disgust.  “They’re a nest of vipers, and the only ones they treat worse than one another are strangers to their midst.  Well, I’m worse.  I’m a peasant aspiring to a lofty title.  They will chew me up and spit me back out.”  His shoulders drooped dejectedly, more than certain of the outcome should he show his face in the dining room that evening.

        Belle rose to her feet and circled around the ottoman to kneel at his feet.  She took the cup from him and set it aside, clasping his hands in hers.  “Rumpelstiltskin, I will not let anyone be cruel to you.  Do you understand me?”

        “But, dearest … what if I say the wrong thing? Or use the wrong fork? Or address someone by the wrong title?  Some of those courtiers have cuffed one of the maids simply for bringing her the wrong pastry!”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as her thumbs rubbed nonsensical patterns along the tender flesh of his inner wrists.  It was followed by several more.  “I’m sorry … I’m sorry I’m panicking.  I promised myself I wasn’t going to let my fears get in the way of our happiness any longer.”

        She leaned up on her knees and caught his lips in a sweet kiss, his arms not hesitating to coil around her waist and pull her against his chest.  She could feel the tension draining from him, replaced by surprised delight.  “There’s my Rumpel,” she laughed softly as he nipped at her lower lip.  “Feeling better?”  It filled her with joy that she was able to so easily bring him comfort with her touch.

        He pressed his brow to hers, savoring the moment of quiet tranquility between them.  “For the time being at least.”

        “You need a dose of confidence.”

        “I need a good leg and a fast horse.”

        “Rum!” she chuckled.  “I think I have just the thing to set your mind at ease.”  She kissed him once more and abandoned her breakfast to disappear behind her dressing screen.

        “Hi, papa,” Bae called as he came into the room with Bethany in tow.  “Oooooh, my favorite … cinnamon buns,” he gushed, dropping onto his pillow next to the coffee table.  He hurriedly stuffed a large piece into his mouth, moaning rapturously.  “Ifs ‘onna bfe so amfazing ‘onight at the feast!”

        “Bae, don’t talk with your mouth full, son,” his father scolded.

        He washed the bite down with a bit of milk and wiped his mouth with the napkin as he’d been taught.  “The feast is going to be so amazing tonight, papa.  Aren’t you excited?”

        “Thrilled,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered in a dry tone.

        Belle hastened from behind the screen, already combing her fingers through her hair.  She tamed the mass of curls with a ribbon at her nape and dove into her wardrobe for a pair of shoes.  “Don’t worry, Rum.  By the time I return, all should be in readiness to set your mind at ease so you’ll be able to enjoy the feast.”

        “Can I come with you, mama?” Bae asked hopefully, his eyes bright with anticipation.

        “When I come back for papa, ok?  Right now I need to see Lucern.”  She turned to kiss her betrothed on his cheek before hurrying to the door.  “Get dressed, Rumpel.  I’ll be back soon.”

        “What do you suppose she needs to talk with her brother about?” Bae asked his father.

        “There’s no telling with your mother, son,” he said, finishing off the last dregs of his tea and pulling himself to stand on his crutches.  “But you can bet it won’t be boring.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “Rum, I could have gotten a litter, and –“

        “I can bloody well walk the distance to the dining room, sweetheart,” he gnashed out through teeth clenched so tightly she could hear the enamel splintering.  He watched her purse her rosebud mouth into a moue of displeasure, but she held her tongue. 

        “Are you sure?”

        Perhaps he’d been hasty with that observation, he thought ruefully.  He was also of the mind that if he injured himself further, he wouldn’t have to go to Lucern’s infernal feast.

        Belle clasped her hands tightly before her as they came to a halt before the ornate double doors with their intricate carvings and gilt hinges, to stop herself from reaching out to steady him.

        “ _Now_ will you tell me why we’re here? Or did you just want to make me face the site of my impending doom before the bell tolls my demise?”

        She giggled.  “Oh, Rumpel, no ….no, don’t be angry,” she amended when he turned awkwardly to go back to their apartments.  “Please, darling.”

        Rumpelstiltskin rested heavily on his crutches and sighed.  “I’m not angry at you, Belle.”

        “But you’re not happy with me either.”  She argued, her fingers gliding effortlessly through the soft hair at his temples.

        “I’m not unhappy.”  His lips quirked up into a half moon grin as he leaned into her touch.  His fingers twined themselves about her the kirtle at her waist, reeling her in so he could feast on her lips.  “So sweet, my love,” he cooed to her, reveling in her swift intake of breath as she yielded to him.  “I do believe I’m getting happier.  Would you care to test that theory?” he asked, nipping at her lower lip.

        Belle heaved a breathy little laugh as her arms wound about his neck.  “I do believe you’re right, darling … and it’s infectious.”  She indulged him a little longer before pulling him towards the door.  “We can’t really keep them waiting any longer.”

        “Who?” her spinner asked querulously.

        His princess merely shot him a gamine-like grin and knocked on the door.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s smile fell from his thin lips as he gaped in wonder at the splendor of the formal dining room.  The tables were covered in pristine white table cloths, the grand table upon the dais reserved for the royal family, the tables for the court on either side forming one large ‘u’.  Pink and white roses formed centerpieces for the tables interspersed along its lengths and there were more on pedestals along the walls.  There was no sign of the mess his son had made in the room only yesterday.  The finest china sat upon the oak structure, each place setting with a full accompaniment of flatware, the silver buffed to a high shine.  Before each setting was a fine crystal goblet and next to it a small finger bowl which would be filled with water for washing.  To the spinner, it looked just as splendid as it had when he’d served as the princess’s servant, and there in lay the difference.  He was no longer a servant, but a lord and expected to dine at that fancily laid table.

        He straightened himself to his full height despite the hindrance of the crutches, as Thorrin strode forward and took up the position of majordomo.  The lad winked at the spinner and tapped his staff against the polished marble, his voice ringing loud and clear through the cavernous room.  “Lord Rumpelstiltskin, First Earl of Dunsmore and Her highness, Princess Belle of Avonlea.”

        The spinner started slightly as he heard his name attached to the new title.  It sounded foreign to his ears, and he wondered if he’d ever get used to it.  Belle slipped her hand into his where he stood motionless staring up at the table where Bae, Lucern, Lyssa and the king awaited them.  Gaston, and several of his knights were there as well.  “Your family and friends, Rumpelstiltskin,” she murmured softly, nodding to those gathered.  “We’re all here to support you, my love.”

        He cast her a look unable to disguise his wonder.  “What is all this?  We’re too early for the feast.”

        Belle’s nose wrinkled with amusement as she grinned up at him.  “Consider this a practice run for tonight.”

        He cradled her face in his hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her lips.  “I do love you with the whole of my heart, my princess,” he whispered solemnly.  “Sometimes I feel as if I hadn’t truly begun to live until I met you.”

        Tears brightened the blue of her eyes, making them sparkle.  “I love you too, my spinner.”  She reached up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, losing herself in his touch.  At least until Lucern had deemed their display quite enough and hobbled over on his own crutches to break it up.

        “Enough of that, you two,” he admonished lightly.  “How are you feeling, my friend?”

        Rumpelstiltskin shrugged.  “About as well as can be expected?”

        “Quaking in our boots, are we?” the prince chortled.  “I told you not to worry, Spinner.  No one is expecting you to be perfect … just be yourself.”

        “But what if that’s not enough to appease the court,” he mumbled.  “What if I embarrass Belle?”

        Lucern chucked his sister affectionately beneath her chin.  “It takes a bit to embarrass our princess.  We once had this delegation visit from the Southern Isles … a smarmy bloke and twelve of his brothers,” he said, turning awkwardly on his crutches and making slow progress around the room.  “What was his name, Belle, it escapes me at present.”

        Belle rolled her eyes.  “Hans.”

        The prince leaned in close to whisper conspiratorially.  “She took exception to his manners at dinner and boxed his ears.  Papa was hoping she’d take a fancy to at least one of them, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

        Rumpelstiltskin could feel jealousy clawing at his innards.  “What did he do to put her off so badly?” he couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him.

        “The slimy toad assured me if I were to marry him, I would only have to share _his_ bed,” she fairly snarled.  “A brash uncouth lot of barbarians if I’ve ever seen one.”

        “There was enough fodder for the gossip mill to last a good month,” Lucern chuckled.

        “I can’t say as I blame her,” Rumpelstiltskin said, affronted on her behalf.

        Belle smiled to herself as she watched her love relax and enjoy the conversation with her brother.  He seemed to be at ease for the first time in days and she could only hope he would remain so when they did this for real that night.  Her smile slipped, however, when three of the kitchen maids flounced into the room and curtsied to her betrothed. 

        He smiled politely and nodded respectfully.  “Ladies, don’t you look lovely.”  Belle gritted her teeth as they erupted into a fit of giggles, simpering before him.

        “Lucern …”

        Her brother leaned behind Rumpelstiltskin, a rakish grin curving his mouth.  “I was trying to find someone for him to practice on, Bluebelle.  Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

        She scowled blackly at him.  He knew all too well of the trouble she had with the maids and their flirting.  “I may have to tell Lyssa you purposely haven’t invited her brother to the wedding,” she threatened.

        “You wouldn’t,” he breathed, his eyes narrowing on her.

        “Wouldn’t I?” She glared hotly down her nose at Mildred, a diminutive blonde nearly spilling over her bodice.  “Whose idea was it to dress the maids up in Lyssa’s clothes?” she hissed.

        “I believe it was Gaz.”

        “Lackwit!”

        “What?” Lucern caviled.  “They look enough the part, don’t they?”

        “A bit too much, if you ask me.”

        Belle shook her head and clasped her hands tightly, trying in vain to rein in her temper … and her jealousy.  Her lips parted on a silent gasp of outrage, however, when she heard what the maids were saying.

        “We were so worried when we heard about your accident, Rumpelstiltskin, and Mrs. Potts forbade us from attending you,” Leticia simpered, a come hither look in her dark eyes.

        “Oh, yes.  We would have made sure you weren’t bored stuck up in that stuffy old room of yours,” Mildred added.

        To her spinner’s credit, he seemed to be oblivious to their charms.  “I assure you ladies, I was quite well tended by the princess,” he said affably.

        Simone’s sloe black eyes lidded seductively as she reached out and trailed her fingers over his silk covered sleeve.  “Surely the princess couldn’t see to _all_ of your needs,” she purred.

        Rumpelstiltskin felt his tongue freeze to the roof of his mouth, at a loss as to how to answer the woman.  Belle sounded as if she were choking on a peach pit, her face suffusing with color.  “Belle, dearest, are you alright?” he asked with marked concern.

        “Ok,” Lucern interjected.  “Ladies, thank you for your help.  If you would be so kind as to take your places at table?”

        Rumpelstiltskin brushed a curl behind her ear, his brows drawn low over his eyes in a frown.  “Belle, what is it?”

        “You don’t have to flirt so openly with them,” she pouted, unable to meet his gaze.  “Shameless hussies … all of them.”

        “What?!” he asked, stunned by her jealousy.  “They … you think they’re attracted to me?  Belle, don’t be silly.”

        “Never call a woman silly, Spinner.  It never ends well,” Lucern advised from his left.

        “Could you give us a minute please?”  Rumpelstiltskin winced at the grating whistle the prince adopted as he moved off a few paces to give them a bit of privacy.  “Sweetheart,” he murmured softly, tipping her chin up to meet his warm gaze.  “I love _you_ … only you, Belle.”  He dipped his head lower to brush his lips to hers.  “No other woman holds my heart as you do.  Do you think it was easy for me to give it into your keeping?”

        “No,” she shook her head slightly.  “No it wasn’t, I know after what you’d suffered in your first marriage.  It’s just …”

        “What, my love,” he coaxed gently.

        “I was raised at my father’s knee.  I was a peculiar bookish girl heir to a crown.  That’s all anyone ever saw.  They never saw _me_.  I never let anyone come close to seeing what was truly in my heart.  Not until you, Rum.  All anyone ever saw was the crown and the title.  You see me.”

        He stared down at her incredulously.  “And you … what?  Think I’ll catch a fancy to one of them?”

        “I really am being silly, aren’t I?”

        His lips crooked up into an endearing smile.  “Maybe just a little.  I love you so much, my Belle.  I don’t even see them in that light.  They’re just pretty little girls who are kind to an old man –“

        “You’re not old,” she said in his defense.

        “It’s you I want, you I love.  I always will.”  Her arms slipped about his waist as she tucked her head beneath his chin and nestled into his embrace.  He reveled in the solid comfort of her in his arms, offering her reassurances of her own.  It wasn’t often that his strong, brave little dearie felt insecure, and he would make sure she never felt inferior to another.

        “I love you too, Rum.  I’m so proud you’re going to be my husband.”

        Gaz banged his goblet down on the table to get their attention.   “While the two of you are entertaining in the extreme … we’re starving!  Can we move this along sometime before the solstice?”

        “Put a lid on it, pup,” Maurice said, looking up from the book on springer spaniels he was perusing with Baelfire while they waited.

         Belle gave an imperious sniff … right before she stuck her tongue out at her childhood companion.  He roared with laughter.  She and Rumpelstiltskin rejoined Lucern and they made their slow progress towards their seats.  “I think you did rather well with the maids.  It’s really not that much different than conversing with the court ladies.  If you get stuck, simply nod politely and compliment them on their new slippers.”

        “Lucern!” Lyssa scolded as he took his place beside her.

        “What, love?  It’s what I do.  I can’t tell you how many times papa and Bluebelle have bailed me out of a sticky spot.”

        A bit of his nerves returned as Rumpelstiltskin sat down next to Belle and he took in the full complement of flatware at his disposal.  “Rum,” she whispered, patting his hand gently.  “Relax, darling.  Just watch me and you can’t go wrong.”

        Gaston rubbed his hands together in anticipation as the servants began bringing in their luncheon, his stomach more important than which fork his used.  He felt a moment of sympathy for the spinner who had been thrust so unwillingly into their lives, but who had come to be a part of their family.  Rumpelstiltskin might not realize it, but any of them would jump to his defense and Belle would ride the hounds into hell if it would keep him safe.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “I look like an idiot!” he fumed, pulling at the cravat at his neck.  “A peacock … a bloody peacock!”

        “You look handsome, papa,” Bae sighed, his nose firmly planted in a book his grandfather had loaned him.  He’d only said the same thing to his father a dozen times since he’d sat down on the settee to wait to go down to dinner with his parents.

        Thorrin adjusted his sword more to the side and crossed the room to help Rumpelstiltskin with his cravat.  He arched a brow at the three lying mangled and wrinkled at his feet.  “You don’t look like a peacock, Rum,” he assured him, eyeing the black silk jacket and green velvet waistcoat he wore.  “You look just as fine in your formal attire as you did in your livery.”

        He grimaced at his reflection in the mirror, his breathing labored as panic began to set in.  “I’m going to make a complete fool out of myself and Belle’s no longer going to want to marry me.”

        “Papa, you’re not going to make a fool of yourself,” Bae said with a roll of his eyes.

        “He’s right.  You’re going to be fine,” Belle said from the doorway between their rooms.  “My, don’t you look splendid, my love.”

        Rumpelstiltskin ignored the last tug Thorrin gave to his cravat as he whirled to face her, catching himself from stumbling at the last moment.  “Oh, dearie, you look breathtaking,” he said, finally remembering to breathe.

        Belle stepped into the room and did a slow turn, the forest green velvet swishing invitingly about her legs.  The sleeves were long and fitted where they dipped off of her ivory shoulders, and the waist was form fitting, a silver kirtle about her slender hips.  It was simple but elegant; perfect for the feast.

        “Mama, your dress matches papa’s waistcoat,” Baelfire giggled. 

        “It does!” she chuckled.  “And you’ve been such a good boy while you’ve been waiting for us to get dressed.  I think that will require an extra serving of Mrs. Pott’s treacle fudge you love so much.”

        “Whoo-hoo!”

        “Thorrin, wait for us outside a moment.  We won’t be long and then we can all go down together,” she ordered, nodding regally as her knight bowed respectfully.  “Now, darling, how are you feeling?” she asked, pulling the leather tie from Rumpelstiltskin’s hair and fluffing it out with her fingers. 

        “Better now that you’re here,” he admitted.  “Was something wrong with my hair?”

        “I like it better unfettered, love.”  Her fingers kneaded gently at his nape, soothing away the knots of tension beneath his skin.  She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his rapidly beating pulse point just beneath his jaw.  “Relax, Rum.”

        “M-Maybe I should use my cane tonight?” he suggested in a low tone, his eyes slamming closed at the first brush of her lips.

        Her hands trailed over his arms to caress the sensitive flesh of his wrists, her lips switching to the other side to pay it equal fervor.  “No, you’re not to put any weight on that ankle just yet.”

        “W-What if I accidentally trip someone?” he moaned, his own hands coming to rest on the curve of her hips.

        Her thumbs brushed over his palms, back and forth in a steady motion as her lips mapped a sweet path to the corner of his mouth.  “I will be there … by your side … for the duration,” she said, her speech interspersed with kisses along his lower lip.  “You are going to be calm and genteel, confident and relaxed.  You are going to enjoy this first feast of many and look forward to the next.”

        He gazed at her through heavily lidded ocher eyes, love and desire burning in their depths.  “You make it sound so easy.”

        “It is, my love.  You just have to believe it.”

        Rumpelstiltskin breathed out the first easy sigh he’d been able to manage all day and pressed his brow to hers.  “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

        “You won’t.”  She looked up at him and smiled lovingly.  “Now let’s go to dinner so I can show off my handsome fiancée.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to my friend Twyla Mercedes for the lovely idea of giving Rum a practice run-through before the actual feast. Poor darling is still a wreck, but at least now he can see it not just him and Bae and Belle against the world. He has others who care for him and support him. Next week is the feast for real :D I really can’t tell you what it means to hear from you all each week, loving and supporting this story. You guys rock!!
> 
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> Fic rec of the week is ‘Friendships & Fandoms’ by worringlyinnocent. Please, if you haven’t read it, give it a chance. I just adore it. So well written. A truly entertaining read. You can find it on AO3 and Tumblr.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

        The main hall, the central artery which stretched throughout the length of the palace, was bustling with guests, servants, and guards.  The smell of freshly cut roses filled the air long before Belle and her betrothed reached the open double doors leading into the formal dining room and she smiled at the familiar fragrance.  She glanced up at Rumpelstiltskin as they approached the entrance, happy to see he wasn’t visibly trembling with nerves. 

        “Alright, my darling?” she asked, smiling warmly.

        “As well as I can hope, sweetheart.  I think I should do well after your little practice feast this afternoon,” he replied.  “I will give every effort not to embarrass you.”

        Belle laid a restraining hand on his arm, gently pulling him to a halt.  “Rum, you could never embarrass me, darling.”  She reached up to straighten the emerald stick pin in his snowy cravat and gave him a reassuring smile.  “I love you.”

        “I love you too, my princess.”

        “I know.  I just wanted to tell you again before we went in.”

        He gave his head a slight shake, still amazed by the incredible woman who’d deemed him worthy enough to grant her heart.  “Well, I never tire of hearing it.”

        She leaned up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss before crossing the threshold with him to be announced.  The majordomo thumped his staff against the marble, his voice ringing out as all eyes turned to the door.  “Her highness, Princess Belle of Avonlea and Lord Rumpelstiltskin, Earl of Dunsmore.”

        A hush fell over the room and Belle could feel the heat rising from her spinner.  Her eyes immediately fell to her father, who nodded and had a servant nudge the minstrel back to his lute.  “Breathe, Rumpel,” she whispered as they moved farther into the room.

        The first hour would be for cocktails, an aspect of the feast Belle wished Lucern would have foregone this one time, but far be it for him to skip tradition.  Thomas and Melvin, two liveried kitchen servants who’d befriended Rumpelstiltskin early on, moved fluidly through the milling guests one with a tray of drinks, the other with a tray of hors d’oeuvres.  When they’d disappeared back into the crowd, having left Belle with a glass of champagne and Rumpel with a tumblr of fine Frontlands whiskey, he turned to her with a puzzled brow.

        “You planned that didn’t you?”

        She popped the stuffed olive into her mouth and grinned unrepentantly.  “I may have mentioned your preferences to Mrs. Potts when Lyssa and I finalized the menu,” she replied after she’d had a sip of champagne.  She took his glass from him so he could maneuver with his crutches.  “Come, let us join Lucern before he has an apoplectic fit in his impatience.  I’m rather surprised he hasn’t sent Gaz to fetch us.”

        “Someone mention my name?” the knight asked with a waggle of his brows as she turned at the sound of his voice.  “Luc wants you to join him.”

        “Yes, dear,” Belle rolled her eyes teasingly at her dear friend and guard.  “How are you this evening, Gaz?”

        “In high spirits, Bluebelle.  Nothing like a good feast.”

        Belle greeted her brother warmly, passing on formality and kissing his cheek.  She did the same to her father and Lyssa.  Rumpelstiltskin, however, transferred both crutches to one hand and bowed low at the waist.  “Your Highnesses,” he intoned softly.

        Maurice chuckled and gestured to the settees set on either side of his throne-like chair, each one for his children and their chosen partners.  When Rumpelstiltskin had settled himself comfortably, Belle returned his drink to him.  “How’s the ankle, Rum?” the king asked, concerned for his future son in law.

        “It seems to be doing well, sire.  The boot Dr. Cassel fashioned for me is remarkable,” he answered, allowing himself to relax for the moment, surrounded as he was by his family.

        “Grandpa!”

        Rumpelstiltskin turned to see Baelfire tug loose from Thorrin’s restraining hand to run to his new grandfather.  Maurice opened his arms to the boy, catching him up and settling him down on his lap.  “There you are!” Maurice boomed.  “I’d wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

        “I had a cup of punch with Abel when I first came down, but don’t worry, Grandpa … it wasn’t the one with the bubbles,” he confided, cupping his little hand around his mouth as if he were imparting a secret.

        “I have a feeling Mrs. Potts will whack Gaston with her spoon if she finds out he’s spiked her lemon-berry punch,” the king chortled.

        “I don’t understand why I always get blamed,” the knight grumbled good-naturedly from where he stood next to Maurice’s chair.  “I think it was Gwain this time.”

        Rumpelstiltskin snorted into his drink and Belle rapped him on the back.  “Are you alright?”

        “Fine, love,” he spluttered as he tried to breathe and laugh at the same time.

        Lady Myerson came over to their sitting area before the hearth with young Abel in tow and bowed respectfully, but it was to the spinner she spoke.  “Lord Rumpelstiltskin, I wanted to say how pleased we are to see you up and about.  You’re healing well?”

        Rumpel nodded, offering her a faint smile.  “Yes, m’lady, very well.  Thank you so much for inquiring after my health.  Your family is well?  I don’t see your husband in attendance.”

        She returned his smile, finding him just as personable as her son always claimed.  “Ronald is well.  He was called away on some matter at home.  He will return in a few days.  He knows how much Abel enjoys spending time with Bae and didn’t want to drag him away.”

        Belle couldn’t keep the smile from blooming on her lips as she watched her love have a successful conversation with his new peers.  “Perhaps once Rum and I are married and have moved to Dunsmore, you will bring Abel to visit Bae in our new home?”

        “Oh that would be grand, highness,” Abel gushed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

        Lady Myerson curtsied, ready to take her leave.  “At your invitation, highness, we would be most honored.”

        Lucern waited until the woman departed before leaning forward and catching Rumpelstiltskin’s eye.  “See, spinner, you’re doing well.  Don’t know why you were so nervous.”

        “And I’m sure you weren’t nervous at your first formal affair?” Lyssa asked dryly of her husband.

        His neck colored above his snowy white cravat.  “Well …”

        Maurice shook his head at his flushed son.  “He passed the peas to Lord Chamberlain, they slipped, and ended up in his lap.  The lad was ready to dig a hole for himself to hide.”

        “Papa, don’t tease,” Belle admonished, trying to hide her own smile.  “We were only eight at the time.  Rum’s circumstances are entirely different.”

        “Well I’m hungry,” the king said as he rose to his feet and held out a hand for Bae.  “Let’s commence with the feasting, shall we?”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t spilled peas on anyone, his cheeks were only slightly pink due to the eyes he could feel with their curious stares, and he hadn’t used the wrong fork.  He felt he could almost breathe a sigh of relief as Belle slipped her hand into his under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.  He raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers.  He still didn’t feel as if he fit in with all the pomp and circumstance, but he was better able to handle it now.

        “As soon as dessert is served and the goblets filled, Lucern will make his formal announcements,” Belle said, leaning close to speak quietly into his ear.

        Therefore, she didn’t see the three shades of white he paled.

        “Grandpa, what shall we have?  I want them both,” Bae said, eyeing the dishes of peach cobbler with sweet clotted cream and the decadent chocolate torte Mrs. Potts had made.

        “Then we’ll get both and share them between us,” Maurice said diplomatically, which made his grandson beam happily.

        “Papa he’s going to be up all night with a bellyache!” Belle scolded.  “And when he is I’m going to come wake you up to help soothe him.”

        The king chuckled boisterously.  “It won’t be the first time I’ve sat up at night with one of my wee ones because they overindulged on dessert.”  He tapped Bae’s nose affectionately.  “Some bicarbonate and a story and he’ll be right back to sleep.”

        “Belle,” Lucern said, leaning forward so he could see her.  “I’ve asked the servants to save our dessert until later.  Will you and Rum join me now?”

        “Of course,” she agreed.

        The three of them went to stand out in front of the head table where their guests and the court could see them, and Rumpelstiltskin was hard pressed not to run with so many eyes on him.  Belle’s small hand, her fingers twined with his, was the only thing to keep him grounded, the only thing to give him the confidence to _know_ he belonged and all would be well.

        “Friends, guests, honored members of our court …” Lucern boomed, his voice carrying to all corners of the hall.  “Several weeks ago, you were told about my accident and the heroic actions of my sister’s servant.  He saved my life.  In reward for his valorous service to the crown, I awarded him an earldom and my sister’s hand.  Please … raise your glasses and toast Avonlea’s hero, Lord Rumpelstiltskin.”

        There wasn’t a guest or courtier in the hall who didn’t lift their glasses to him.  “Lord Rumpelstiltskin!” they called out before drinking deeply from their cups.  His cheeks flamed, but he nodded his acknowledgement.

        “Lord Rumpelstiltskin, do you formally accept my sister’s hand in matrimony?” Lucern asked, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

        “I do, your highness,” he answered, rather impressed with himself that his voice didn’t once falter.

        “And you, my darling sister, do you accept this man to wed?”

        “I do,” she answered, lifting her free hand to cup her beloved’s cheek.  “With all my heart.”

        “I’m bloody well heartbroken,” came a drawling voice from the open doors.  “Here I’d thought you were saving yourself for me.”

        “Here we go,” Maurice grumbled behind them, rolling his eyes at the man’s theatrics.

        “Grandpa, who is that man?” Bae asked, crawling onto his grandfather’s lap so he could see better.

        “An idiot, lad.  No one of importance.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s hands tightened on his crutches to white knuckled hardness as Belle sashayed forward to greet the man.  A red haze formed over his vision as the leather clad interloper swung her up and twirled her around, planting a loud smacking kiss to her cheek.  What was worse, his precious bride to be giggled as if she were enjoying herself.  “Killian Jones, put me down this instant!” she huffed laughingly.

        “Still no fun, I see,” he drawled, setting her on her feet and leading her back to Rumpelstiltskin’s side.

        “Besides, I don’t think your wife would appreciate it if I ran off with you.  When did your ship get in?”

        “Not even an hour ago.  Harbormaster said you were having a feast to celebrate – and when aren’t you lot celebrating something – and I came down to pay my respects.”  He arched one raven’s wing brow down at the shorter spinner and cocked his head to the side.  “So this is the man you’ve chosen?”

        “Aye, I’m the mon she’s chosen,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his brogue thick as he was still bristling with fury at the man’s gall in touching his princess.

        Belle’s eyes widened as she heard her betrothed’s tone of voice, so icy it should have chilled the blood in Killian’s veins.  Lucern – for once wanting to be helpful instead of the eternal prankster – clapped their friend on the back. 

        “So, Jones, how’s little Jack?”

        “He’s great, Luc.  My lad’s four now and already wanting to climb all over the rigging.  Esmerelda and I have a time keeping up with him.”

        Belle was wise enough to be worried.  “What’s wrong, Rum?”

        “Might I have a word?” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

        She bit her lip uncertainly.  He hadn’t even been this upset the other night when she’d overstepped her boundaries with Baelfire.  “O-Of course, darling.”

        His eyes narrowed at the endearment as he turned awkwardly on his crutches and set off for the kitchens.  It was a familiar domain, one he was used to, one where he felt comfortable … one where he knew of a quiet pantry where they wouldn’t be disturbed.  She nodded and smiled to the kitchen staff, complimenting several as she passed on the food and drink they’d served.  She was purposely dragging her feet, not knowing what to expect.

        With the feast in full swing, the pantry was occupied and therefore he had to settle for a broom cupboard near the hearth.  He ushered her inside and closed the door behind him.  He whirled on her, his sable eyes dark and passionate – though not in a way she was used to.

        “Who was that man?” he hissed furiously.

        And with those four words she realized there had been a great misunderstanding.  At least he’d brought it to her quickly instead of letting it fester until he was ready to explode.  “Rumpel, there’s no reason to be jealous.  Killian – “

        “Had his fucking hands all over you!  I will _not_ be cuckolded again, Belle.  I went through it with Milah and I didn’t care for her even a tenth of what I feel for you.  I can’t do it again,” he fumed, raking a hand through his hair with an angry swipe of his fingers.

        “Oh, Rum, do you really think I would do that to you?  It still haunts me remembering how Milah treated you that night at the tavern.”  She cradled his face in her warm hands and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.  “I would never hurt you.  I love you too much.”

        “But he had … he was so familiar with you,” he said, still unconvinced.

        “Rumpel, Killian and his brother Liam were abandoned by their father at a young age.  Worse yet, the man sold them into indentured servitude.  And not to a man who would have given him a favorable deal as I did you.  He was cruel.  Lucern and Papa found them one day while surveying the southern fields where the man had then hard at work.  He was beating them, Rum.  Father took them in, and gave them over to Mrs. Potts.  She put them to work here in the castle.  When they were old enough and expressed a desire to learn ships, papa found a captain who would take them on as cabin boys.  They’ve worked their way up to their own commands. Killian is happily married and has his family sail with him,” she explained.

        Rumpelstiltskin huffed a bitter laugh, wondering how any man could abandon his child.  “This kingdom seems to have a great many orphans.”

        “Perhaps because we are one of the few kingdoms willing to be kind to them.”  She rested her hands on his chest as he clung to his crutches for balance.  “There’s an orphanage in Dunsmore that papa funds for me.  It’s my responsibility, my duty to see they are cared for.  It is an obligation I relish.  When you see what I’ve done for the children, you’ll understand.”

        He ducked his head sheepishly.  “I suppose I acted like a jealous beast before the entire court.”

        Belle giggled.  “You’re allowed to let that possessive side of yours to show every now and then,” she teased, her tongue darting out to draw her lower lip between her teeth.

        Rumpelstiltskin leaned back against the wall behind him and let his crutches go in favor of curling his hands over her hips and pulling her into him.  His lips closed over hers as her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her fingers delving into the soft hair at his nape.  With his weight supported against the wall, his hands were free to explore.  Nothing more than they’d done during their previous forays into intimacy, perhaps less since they’d have to return to the dining room.  She nipped at his lower lip, demanding entrance as he pulled her flush with his groin, his growing erection pressing into her at just the right spot due to her little heels.

        He palmed her arse, giving her a firm squeeze as she explored his mouth to her heart’s content.  In fact, he’d have been quite happy to remain there for another hour or two and never return to the feast if … well, if one of the maids hadn’t needed a scrub brush on the shelf over his head and shrieked upon finding him with an armful of princess instead.

        “Oh, Rum … Lord Dunsmore … er … I beg your pardon,” she stammered, slamming the door with a bang that reverberated through the kitchen.

        Mildred was at her side in an instant, as was Mrs. Potts.  The woman simply did _not_ tolerate disorder in her kitchens.  “What’s wrong, Maggie?”

        “P-Princess Belle – “ she spluttered, pointing to the cupboard.

        Mrs. Potts opened the door and then swiftly closed it again, giving Rumpelstiltskin time to set his clothes to rights.  “Back to work girls, now.”

        “Rumpelstiltskin and the princess … Mrs. Potts!” Margaret protested.

        “Are you saying they’re …” Mildred gushed, her lips curling into a lusty grin.  “Do you think they’d be open to a third?”

        “Mildred!”

        “But –“

        “I swear if you don’t get back to work I’ll box your ears bloody, girl!”  When the two kitchen maids had finally obeyed her command – for fear of violence if nothing else – she cracked the door open.  “You two have five minutes to get back to the feast before I fetch the king.  What are you thinking, cavorting in the broom cupboard?”

        Rumpelstiltskin looked properly chastised, leaning heavily on his crutches.  Belle, however, looked smug and supremely satisfied.  “Don’t fret, dear … you can’t blame us for stealing a kiss here and there.”

        “Go.  Off with you now!” she said, her cheeks a bit brighter, and it had nothing to do with the heat in the room.  “Younguns can’t manage to keep their hands to themselves.  I hope Princess Lyssa has the wedding preparations well in hand.”

        Belle giggled and followed her betrothed back to the dining room.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “There you are, love,” Killian said, falling into step beside Belle as she and Rumpelstiltskin returned to the festivities.  “Slip off for a breather?”

        “Not that it’s any of your business,” Rumpelstiltskin grumbled under his breath from her other side.  Unfortunately, the captain didn’t have any trouble hearing the snide comment.

        Jones chuckled as he snatched a glass of mulled wine from a passing servant.  “Ah, it appears I’ve ruffled your intended’s feathers,” he said to Belle, his lips lifting into a smug smirk.

        “That’ll do, Killy.  Rum doesn’t know you’re teasing.”

        Rumpelstiltskin drew himself up to his full height, which was still a bit shorter than Jones, his back ramrod straight.  “I am just not the type of man who likes to share.  Nothing personal, I assure you.”

        “Hmm,” Killian hummed, eyeing the spinner speculatively.  “It’s a love match then?”

        “As a matter of fact it is.  You know me well enough to know I’d not marry for any other reason,” Belle replied, casting a loving glance at her spinner.

        Killian’s gaze softened as it settled on her.  “I’m happy for you, love.  You deserve to have love in your life.  I don’t know what would’ve become of me had I not met Esme.”  He held out his hand to Rumpelstiltskin.  “Congratulations, then, mate.  I wish you both all the best.”

        Rumpelstiltskin relaxed a bit and shook the man’s hand … for Belle’s sake.  She leaned up on her toes and pressed a swift sisterly kiss to his cheek.  “Thank you, Killy.”

        “The family and I are setting off tomorrow to visit with Esme’s mother in Waltsshire.  Perhaps when we return, we might pop in for a visit before we set sail again … if you’re amenable?” he asked, finishing off his drink.

        “I’d like that.”

        He bowed to them both and took his leave.  Belle could visibly see her love relax.  “Don’t worry, darling.  He’ll grow on you.”

        “Like a fungus?” Rumpel snarked.

        Belle’s eyes teared with mirth as she hid her wide grin behind her hand.  “You’re incorrigible tonight.”

        “Yes, don’t know what’s gotten into me.  Perhaps all the time spent with your brother and Gaston?”

        “Perhaps.”

        She watched him closely as they moved amongst the guests, stopping often for a word here and there.  Most of the courtiers were openly curious about the servant turned noble, though there were some who wouldn’t accept him for the simple fact that he hadn’t gained his title through succession.  They could go hang, in her opinion.  And then there were a few who eyed him with avarice, wondering how they could gain his favor with his new status putting him so close to the king.  She’d have to make sure she helped him steer clear of those.

        The evening had been a rousing success, and she was nearly ready to retire.  “How’s your ankle, darling?” she asked as the lines about his mouth seemed to deepen.

        “I’m faring well, Belle.  Don’t fret,” he replied, taking a moment to simply bask in her loveliness.  He leaned against the column behind him and twined his fingers with hers.  He could block out the noise and chatter of the guests, the lilting music of the minstrels and the merry clinking of glasses and simply be in the moment with the woman he adored above all others.

        “Your highness.”

        He groaned as they were interrupted.  And by none other than that horrid woman who’d made the snide comment that Bae was Belle’s bastard son whom she’d only just now decided to claim.  He hadn’t liked her then and he certainly had no feelings of fondness for her now.

        Belle kept her smile in place, though the warmth faded from her eyes as she turned to the woman.  “Lady Kristina, good evening, dear,” she greeted her in a neutral tone.  “I hope you are enjoying the feast.”

        “Yes, highness.  I just wanted to congratulate you on your betrothal.  It was such a _surprise_ to hear the news.  A surprise but no less a welcome one as I know your family has been wishing to marry you off for some time,” the noblewoman said with saccharine sweetness.

        Belle’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally, only those who knew her well would take it for the warning it was.  “Yes, they were quite happy.”

        The woman fluttered her fan before her, her smile tight.  “It was really rather fortunate your servant was in such a fortuitous position to come to the prince’s aid.  It gave Lucern the perfect opportunity to elevate him in status so that you might have him … properly.”

        Belle’s smile slipped away to be replaced with tight lipped impatience.  How dare she imply … Rumpelstiltskin’s hand tightened perceptibly around her cold fingers, his polite smile giving way to a smirk before she could unleash her royal temper on the vicious little termagant.

        “Lady Kristina, we’re so happy you’re overjoyed by the prospect of our pending marriage.  It warms my heart that you have so much time to ponder our relationship when it would behoove you more to worry about which lady your husband will be bedding this evening.”  He leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially.  “Even now he’s got his hand down Lady Rosemont’s bodice,” he said, nodding in the direction of the alcove behind her.

        Kristina’s face flushed ten shades of scarlet as she whipped around to see the back of her husband’s evening jacket partially hidden behind a potted plant.

        Rumpelstiltskin leaned heavily on his crutches, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he smiled at Belle.  “Dearest, might you allow me to escort you out onto the terrace for a breath of air?  The room is a bit stifling at the moment.”

        Belle bit her lower lip to keep her laughter at bay and curled her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “I would love to, Rum.  Shall we?”  As if as an afterthought, she cast a dismissive look down her nose at the odious noblewoman.  “Good evening, Lady Kristina.”

        She was able to stifle her giggles only long enough to reach the terrace.  “Gods, Rum!  That was absolutely bloody brilliant!  What has gotten into you?”

        He leaned against the balustrade and set his crutches aside, looping his arms about her waist to pull her against him.  “I don’t know what you mean, my love,” he murmured silkily, burying his face against the ivory column of her throat.

        Belle wrapped her arms about his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his temple.  “You’re changing right before my eyes, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”  She searched his face as he leaned back to look up at her.  “I love it that you’re gaining confidence and finding a level of comfort in this new role my brother has cast upon you, but … Rumpelstiltskin, I fell in love with a sweet, shy spinner.  Please don’t let him get lost in there, ok?”

        “Oh, my Belle,” he sighed. “I’m still me, dearest.  But I wasn’t going to let her talk to you like that,” he explained, his hand curling about her nape as his thumb caressed the smooth curve of her jaw.  “Let her worry about her own little intrigues and leave us out of them, yes?”

        His lips teased at the corner of her mouth as she hummed her pleasure.  “I can’t wait until we marry and retire to Dunsmore.  It will be nice to be away from palace affairs.”

        “Alone in our own home,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over hers.

        “Just me and you and Bae …”

        “And perhaps another little one to add to our little family?” he hinted.  “A precocious daughter to chase after the bunnies with Bae?”

        Her lips stretched wide beneath his, smiling into his kiss.  “Yes, my love.  Our perfect little family.”  She created enough distance between them so she could stare up into his adoring gaze.  “I do so love you, Rumpel.”

        He kissed the tip of her nose and gathered her close to his chest.  “Oh, Belle … I love you too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think he did quite well, don’t you? I finished this chapter last night. Never have I cut it so close to posting lol. With Christmas week looming ahead, I’m not going to promise there will be a chapter of this story ready for Friday … but I will try. I have a lovely secret Santa fic (separate from the tumblr event) that will be posted on Christmas which I hope you will all read and enjoy. I hope all of you have a wonderful holiday filled with love and laughter. Christmas cheer for you all and best wishes! Be safe!
> 
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> Fic rec this week is ‘A Different Curse’ by ChloeWinchester. It’s a Rumbelle fic with a True Blood twist and if you’re not reading it, you’re seriously missing out. It’s fabulotastic!!


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

**Three weeks later** **…**

 

        Belle ripped out another row of uneven stitches from the scarf she was knitting and sighed, looking up at the source of her distraction.  Tap, thump; tap, thump; tap, thump.  It was driving her mad.  “Darling, the doctor isn’t going to arrive any sooner should you cease trying to wear a groove in the rug,” she murmured softly, hoping her reasonable tone would somehow permeate the mask of anxiety clouding his face.

        “He’s going to make us late.”

        “We’re not on any set schedule, Rum.  It’s not like they’ll leave without us,”: she said, setting her knitting in the basket beside her.  They would be setting off for Dunsmore that morning.  It would be the first time Rumpelstiltskin would be able to survey the property which would be their new home.  He would be meeting with the estate manager upon their arrival … if they weren’t too late.  Mr. Madsen was a very efficient man, and would have no problem acquainting Rumpelstiltskin with his responsibilities.  She was in favor of keeping the man on to help her husband to be, not wanting him to be mired down in estate affairs to the point where he would be overwhelmed.  There were also many things she wanted to show him, and if he were buried in work, there would be no time for fun.  Her poor love had not had an easy life and she wanted their marriage to be filled with love and laughter, with new memories to replace the bad.  She wanted him to be happy … at least as happy as he’d already made her.

        “Lucern hasn’t had to use his crutches for two weeks, Belle, and here I am still hobbling along like a cripple,” he grumbled, making another pass across the hearth rug.  “Frankly, I’m rather tired of these wretched things.”

        She clasped her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting in upon themselves as she watched him pace.  “His injuries were a bit different than yours, Rumpel.  He didn’t break any bones, and your quick thinking in that ravine saved him from infection and a longer healing process.”

        His thin lips curled into a moue of disgust, having no argument for her statement.  It didn’t make his impatience any less, however.  He turned so fast at the knock upon her door, he nearly stumbled and fell.  Bethany was there in an instant to greet their caller, throwing the door wide and bidding him entry.

        “Dr. Cassel,” he fairly growled, nodding at the man.

        “Milord, your highness,” the doctor greeted them both with a jovial smile.  “How are you faring today?  You seem to be getting around on those rather well.”

        Belle shook her head in warning, not wanting him to bear the brunt of Rumpelstiltskin’s short temper.  “We’re doing quite well, Doctor.  We’ll be leaving for Dunsmore shortly, so if you would be so kind as to – “

        “Get on with it?” the spinner snapped, dropping into a chair and stretching his leg out onto the ottoman.

        “Yes … well,” the doctor spluttered, hurrying over to the little sitting area before the hearth.  He knelt next to the ottoman and reached out to unbuckle the boot from Rumpel’s leg, doing his best to be gentle.  Regardless of the spinner’s feelings for the man, Cassel was a very good doctor.  “How is your pain?  Thorrin hasn’t been by for more of your pain medication in the past several weeks.”

        “Because he’s a stubborn mule,” Belle breathed under her breath as she cast her betrothed a pointed look.

        “It’s manageable.  I’ve lived with pain for almost eight years, and actually what I feel now is mild in comparison.  I don’t need the medication any longer,” Rumpelstiltskin insisted.  He’d had this argument with Belle before.  He understood that she didn’t want to see him suffer even the minutest of pains, but he couldn’t abide how the powder made his head feel as if he were lost in a fog.

        Cassel began unwrapping the tightly wound bandages.  “How often do you change these?”

        “Usually once a day, when I visit the baths.”

        “Hmm,” the doctor hummed in approval.  “And you’ve put no weight on it since your injury?”

        Rumpelstiltskin smiled fondly at Belle, reaching out to clasp her hand as she came to sit near him on the settee.  “No I haven’t.  I have a very strict nurse who makes it impossible to disobey doctor’s orders,” he chuckled.

        “I only want what’s best for you, darling,” she said, blushing prettily at his compliment.

        “Well, it’s good that you followed my instructions.  They will only speed the healing process … for which I know you’re anxious.”  Cassel set the bandages aside and pressed his cool fingertips to Rumpelstiltskin’s ankle, examining it thoroughly.  “It seems to be healing well.  I was worried over the damaged tendons when you were first injured because of your previous wound, but even they seem to be knitting back together as they should.”

        Belle beamed at the man as if he’d just handed her the moon.  She knew how important it was to her betrothed to be able to stand with her unaided at the altar when they spoke their vows. 

        Cassel held out his hand to the spinner as he rose to his feet.  “Let’s get you up now, and see if it will bear your weight, shall we?”

        Rumpelstiltskin cast him an anxious look as he set his foot on the floor and ground his teeth together in anticipation of the pain.  Belle shot to her feet as well, her hands fluttering before her.  She wanted so badly to assist him, but was afraid to make him think she didn’t trust him to be able to do it on his own.  He reached out to her, glad that he had when she smiled at him and quickly took his elbow to offer her support.  He rested his weight on his left leg, his stronger limb, the one which had supported him for more years than he’d care to contemplate.

        “When you’re ready, m’lord.  There’s no rush,” the doctor said in a reassuring tone.

        Belle slipped her free hand into his right and matched her breathing to his in an effort to calm her rapidly beating heart.  “It’s alright, Rum.  I have you.”

        He took a tentative step and shifted his weight to his lame leg, holding tightly to Belle’s hand as he waited for his ankle to give out beneath him.  His knee shook from lack of use, his toes curled reflexively into the plush rug, and his ankle twinged with pain, but it held steady beneath him.  Cassel let go of him when he saw the spinner had gotten his bearings.  Belle, however, wasn’t letting go.

        “How’s it feel?” she asked, glancing between the surprise on his face and his leg. 

        “It’s _straight_ , Belle,” he murmured, his brogue thick and filled with awe.  “There’s a slight discomfort, a stiffness to it, but it’s worth it because it’s _straight_.”  He stared down at his foot, awed over his recovery, the appendage as straight as the other instead of curled inward.

        Tears sprang to her eyes as he shook off her hand and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck.  “I know, love,” she cooed, her hands rubbing soothing circles over the small of his back.

        “I’ll be able to dance with you at our wedding in another three weeks.”  He drew himself up, his eyes shining with unshed tears.  His callused hands were gentle as he cradled her lovely face and pressed a fleeting kiss to her lips, happiness radiating from his every pore.

        “Don’t test yourself too soon, m’lord,” the doctor warned with a chuckle.  “Use your cane until you regain your strength, and don’t try sparring with her ladyship’s knights for a while,” he quipped.  “You should also continue to wear the boot for another couple of months for the added support.”

        “I can assure you, he won’t be out on the training field for some time,” Belle retorted, helping Rumpelstiltskin back to his seat.

        “Thank you, Dr. Cassel.  I don’t know how to ever repay you for what you’ve done for me,” the spinner said, reaching out to shake the man’s hand.

        Bethany showed the doctor out, and left her mistress alone with Rumpelstiltskin, giving them a moment of privacy before they readied themselves for their journey to Dunsmore.

        Belle knelt at his feet, which he’d propped up on the ottoman, smoothing her fingers over the spidery lines of scar tissue which would always mar the skin over his ankle.  “Rumpel, I hate to say this, but perhaps it was a good thing you had your accident with my brother.”

        Rumpelstiltskin snorted and reached for her, pulling her onto his lap, his arms coiling loosely about her waist.  He nuzzled against her throat, drawing a breathy little moan from her.  “I think the most fortunate thing to have happened to me in years …” he let his voice trail away as his lips teased at the corner of her mouth.

        She let her heavily lidded gaze meet his.  “What was that?”

        “Meeting you, dearest.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Baelfire, put that rabbit back in its cage.  You’re not bringing him in the carriage,” his father scolded as Belle packed up her knitting basket with the scarf she was making, as well as a few books she just couldn’t leave without. 

        “But, papa, what if they get lonely?” the boy asked, his lip protruding in a pout as he turned his large soulful brown eyes up at Rumpelstiltskin.  “Who will take care of them if I’m not here?”

        “I’m sure Bethany and Gerta can see to their care and feeding while we’re gone.  It’s only for a few days,” the spinner tried to reason with his son.

        “Bae, darling, don’t forget your bear,” Belle reminded him.  He hadn’t slept a night without the furry stuffed creature since Lyssa had given it to him.  She’d bought it at the marketplace not long after he’d come to Avonlea, proclaiming to any who’d listen that adjusting to a new home was never an easy thing, and a soft companion in the middle of the night would bring no small measure of comfort.  Especially to one so young.

        “Is grandpa coming with us?” he asked, once he’d retrieved his bear and returned to his mother’s room to sit on the settee.

        “Not this time, Bae,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, making a turn about the room to make sure Belle hadn’t forgotten anything.  The handle of his cane felt comforting to him as he leaned on it lightly.  He’d hardly sat down for more than a few moments since it had been returned to him.  He was so relieved to be free of the crutches, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

        “But I want him to come with us?  Why isn’t he?”

        “He has to stay here, darling,” Belle answered patiently, ruffling his curls.  “We have visitors just now and it would be rude for him to not see to his business with them.”

        “But he’s the king, mama.  He shouldn’t have to be stuck here with them when he can come to our new castle and ride horses with me,” he stated in a reasonable tone.

        Belle chuckled as she watched her betrothed’s face screw up into a look of frustration.  “Bae, I’m sure once we’ve moved to Dunsmore permanently, papa will come to visit you there quite often.”

        He thought for a moment and then sighed.  “I’m glad I’m not the king.  I’d much rather ride horses than do business with cranky nobles.”

        “That makes two of us, son,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered in an aside.

        “Mama, can I put my bear in your trunk?”

        “Of course, darling, but why?  Wouldn’t you like to have him with you in the carriage?” she asked, taking the toy from him and handing it to Bethany so she could pack it away.

        He hung his little head, his cheeks coloring.  “I don’t want Gawain or Anders to make fun of me or think I’m a baby.”

        “They wouldn’t dare!!” she protested hotly.

        “Please, mama?”

        She cradled his little cheek in her hand.  “Of course, sweetling.”

        “And do I have to ride in the carriage?  I want to ride _my_ horse.”

        Rumpelstiltskin raked a weary hand through his hair.  “Your new horse is being fitted for shoes, son.  And we’re taking the open carriage for the short trip to Dunsmore.  It’s not like you’re going to be cooped up in the coach.”

        Bethany went to the door and threw it open, beckoning to Merrick to come for his mistress’s trunk to load onto the back of the carriage.  Belle compromised with Bae, a deal of sorts, and one most favorable to both parties.  “Alright, Bae, if I let you ride with Thorrin instead of in the carriage, will you hurry along with us so we might reach Dunsmore before nightfall?”

        “Whoo-hoo!” he hooted.  “Yes, ma’am.”

        Belle pressed her lips to his brow in an affectionate kiss and sent him off to meet Thorrin in the corridor.  She then curled her hand in the crook of Rumpelstiltskin’s elbow – so happy she could do that once again – and allowed him to lead her from their rooms and into the castle proper to set off for their journey.

        “You’re so good with him, dearest,” he said softly as they entered the main hall.  “Milah was never so patient as you are with him.”

        “I love him, Rum.  I couldn’t love him more if he were my own.”  She blushed under his adoring gaze.  “I happen to love his father too.”

        There was no further time for words between them then as Lucern, Lyssa and the king gathered around them to bid them farewell and safe journey.  But Rumpelstiltskin knew he didn’t have to say any more.  She could see how much he loved her.  He wore his heart on his sleeve for her, his Belle, the one person he believed would never hurt him, and who would love him forever.  He’d learned to put his fear aside and trust her, a decision he would never regret.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle couldn’t keep the dreamy smile from her lips as the carriage trundled along the coast road on its way to Dunsmore.  The sun was bright, the sky a beautiful cloudless blue, and a fragrant sea breeze wafted pleasantly as they traveled, teasing the stray tendrils which had escaped her braid.  She nestled deeper into Rumpelstiltskin’s chest as he toyed with one of her curls, coiling it about the end of his finger.  With the gentle rocking of the carriage on the well maintained road and the comforting warmth of her betrothed’s arms about her, she could have easily fallen asleep.

        Baelfire rode with Thorrin next to the right of the carriage, Gawain to the left.  Out in front were Gaston and Merrick, and following behind were Anders and Leon.  It reminded her somewhat of their journey to Avonlea not so very long ago.  “We’re nearly there, highness,” Fitzpatrick called from the driver’s bench.

        She could practically feel the anticipation humming through Rumpelstiltskin as their enclave rounded the last bend of the road and the shining white castle, built atop the cliffs overlooking the sea, came into view.  Baelfire was animated, his gleeful little voice carrying over to his parents as he bombarded Thorrin with a myriad of questions. 

        Her spinner looked down at her, accusation evident in his gaze.  “This is a _small_ castle?”

        She winced.  “Well, it’s quite a bit smaller than my father’s palace.  Really!” she insisted as he arched a dubious brow.  “It only has forty or so rooms.”

        He chuckled.  “ _Only_ forty or so rooms,” he said in a droll tone.  “Belle, your suite in your father’s palace is larger than my cottage in the Frontlands.  So I’m sure you can see where I’m still a bit overwhelmed by it all.”

        Belle leaned up and kissed his cheek.  “I know, Rum, and you’ve taken it all in stride.  The title, the wealth, the pomp and ceremony … me.”

        “You’re the only reason I’ve accepted any of it, dear heart.  All for your happiness, and Bae’s.  If the two of you are happy, then I’m happy too, for without you both, I am nothing,” he intoned solemnly.

        “Nonsense.  You’re wonderful.”

        He stole a quick kiss before the carriage bumped along the cobbles into the courtyard and pulled to a stop before the massive entry doors.  Servants were already spilling out of the foyer and onto the steps, lining up to be introduced to their new master.  Rumpelstiltskin let himself down easily from the carriage as Fitzpatrick lowered the steps and he turned quickly to offer his hand to assist his princess from the conveyance.

        “Granny!” she cried, hurrying over to the woman standing at the bottom of the castle’s grand row of marble steps, a no nonsense expression on her lined visage.  Belle threw her arms around the woman, greeting her warmly.  “I’ve missed you.”

        “Then you should’ve come sooner to visit, then,” the woman bit out gruffly.  Upon closer inspection, Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t mistake the warmth in her eyes for the princess.  She dipped her head, eyeing him over the rim of her spectacles as she trained her gaze on the spinner where he stood behind Belle.  “So, this is him, is it?”

        Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t fight the color blooming in his cheeks.  This woman was important to Belle, therefore her opinion mattered.  He dipped into a slight bow, giving the woman her due, despite his discomfort.  “I am, madam.”

        “Humph,” she snorted.  “And what makes you think you’re good enough to warrant marriage to our princess?”

        The spinner looked taken aback before he composed himself and clenched his teeth, praying for patience … and better yet, that he said the right thing, for once.  “I would never presume to think I’m good enough for Belle, but she chose me.  Who am I to deny her, when I live for her happiness?”

        A chorus of ‘aww’ went up from several of the younger maids standing at attention on the steps.  Granny cut them a look and they instantly silenced … though they continued to cast moony-eyed looks the spinner’s way.  The woman relaxed, one corner of her mouth threatening a tiny smile.  To Belle, she said, “He’ll do.”

        Belle beamed at her.  “Rumpel, darling, this is Mrs. Lucas.  She has been our housekeeper here since Luc and I were very small.”

        “A pleasure to meet you,” the spinner answered in a polite tone.  He still felt as though the woman didn’t like him for some reason unknown to him, but he wouldn’t disappoint his Belle by displaying bad manners.

        “What’s for dinner?  I’m starving!” Gaston growled, dropping a kiss to the woman’s cheek as he made his way over to the steps.  He’d already instructed Gawain and Leon to take the horses and carriage to the stables to be seen to, and he’d enjoy a light repast after so long in the saddle.  Tomorrow he’d be going with Rumpelstiltskin to oversee the village and properties under his new leadership.  If they hadn’t gotten such a late start, they would have been able to do it that afternoon, but already the sun was dipping lower over the mountains.

        “You overgrown beast!” Mrs. Lucas admonished.  “What’s for dinner will be bread and water with that attitude.  Did you leave your manners back at the palace?”

        “No, ma’am,” he grinned unrepentantly.  He dropped into a bow and swept his scarlet cloak aside with a flourish.  “O maiden fair, do forgive my callous disregard for your delicate sensibilities.  Might I have a token of your affection or simply a crust of bread to fill my belly.  I am at your service, sweet damsel.”

        “What a ham,” Belle giggled, hiding her face against Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulder.  Her betrothed fought hard to fight back his own grin.  Mrs. Lucas swatted Gaston’s shoulder and began to usher the servants back into the castle.

        Belle moved to follow her knights into the keep and nearly plowed into Gaston’s back as he stopped sharply in front of her.  “Gaz?”  she asked, glancing at her betrothed questioningly when their friend didn’t answer.  Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, equally confounded as to why he’d stopped.  He led her around the transfixed knight and followed his line of sight to the tall svelte brunette who’d come partway down the steps to speak with Mrs. Lucas.

        The princess glanced between the pair on the stairs and Gaston, a slow smile forming on her lips as she saw the open admiration and curiosity on his face.  He didn’t so much as move a muscle until the pair had disappeared back into the castle.  “Who is she?” he asked, stunned by the little beauty with the hazel eyes and warm smile.  “She’s beautiful.”

        “That’s right.  You weren’t with me when I came here last winter with papa.  Lucern had dragged you off to North Umbria with him for a conference with King Eldred … some sort of trade negotiations.”

        “And what has that to do with anything?” he asked in exasperation, his feet already itching to follow the girl.

        Belle chuckled, following along behind him as he started up the steps.  “Because, lummox, that is Granny’s granddaughter.  Her mother died and Granny brought her here to live and work at the castle.  Her name is Ruby, by the way.”

        “Ruby … what a lovely name,” he said reverently.  Without another word, he bounded up the rest of the steps, leaving Belle and her betrothed to follow at their leisure.  He had to introduce himself forthwith.  There wasn’t a moment to delay.

        “He seems quite taken with her, considering he hasn’t even spoken to her yet,” Rumpelstiltskin stated, managing the stairs better with his cane than he ever would have with those infernal crutches.  “Is he in the habit of chasing women he doesn’t know?”

        Belle squeezed his arm where her hand rested in the crook of his elbow.  “Not at all.  He’ll try to charm the pants off of anyone, but I’ve never seen him look at a woman the way he just looked at Ruby.  It reminded me of someone …”

        “Who, love?”

        “Me.”  She stopped as they crossed the threshold into the foyer, and turned to look up into his warm sable eyes.  “It was how I looked at you when I first saw you come into the tavern to speak with Milah.  As if the whole world fell away, as if you’d come to save me from myself, as if I was destined to love you and only you for the rest of my life.”

        “Oh, my Belle …” he whispered, his brogue thick with emotion as he dragged her into his arms.  His long fingers delved into her hair as his lips descended to hers, his heart swelling with love for her.  He didn’t know how it was possible to love her more every day.  “I love you so much,” he vowed, nibbling softly at her lower lip.

        She sighed when he pulled away and tucked her closely to his side.  “I was destined to be yours, Rumpel.  It just took a game of chance to bring us together.”

        “Aye, dearest.  Fate is a fickle mistress.”  He dropped a kiss to the top of her head.  “And glad I am she favors us.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Alright, my love, close your eyes,” Belle cooed softly as they came to a stop outside their suite of rooms.

        Rumpelstiltskin arched a dubious brow.  After the dinner they’d just had with her rowdy knights, Baelfire on excitement overload, and Gaston mooning over the pretty new maid, he was ready for a bath and at least eight hours of sleep curled around his sweet girl.  Thankfully, Thorrin would be sharing Bae’s room.  His boy was looking forward to his little sleepover, and he couldn’t say he blamed him the way the young knight doted on Bae.

        “It’s never a good thing to ask a cripple to close his eyes, love.”

        “Pfft.  Rumpel, you’ve never acted like a cripple,” she said proudly.  “In the months I’ve known you, you’ve never once allowed your leg to slow you down.

        He stared down at her, his smile filled with awe at the way she looked at him.  His sweet Belle saw him in ways no other ever had.  She saw a brave man where others saw a coward.  She saw a good kind man where others saw someone who cared only for himself, his selfishness causing him to injure himself to avoid the war.  None of them had ever sought out his real motivations … but his Belle had.  And he would thank the gods every day of his life for sending her to save him, to love him.

        He shook off his melancholy, and dropped a kiss to her petal lips.  “Yes, dearest, but I had my eyes wide open so I could see where I was going.”

        Her azure eyes twinkled with mischief.  “As if I would let you stumble. How absurd,” she cooed, taking his cane and hooking it over her arm as her hands clasped his firmly.  “Besides, I want it to be a surprise.”

        “What surprise?” he asked suspiciously, his warm sable eyes narrowing as he opted to play along.

        Belle could hardly contain her exuberance, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.  “Your wedding present!” she squealed.

        Her excitement was contagious, it seemed, as he felt his heartbeat pick up speed.  “Belle, we’re not yet wed.  Don’t you want to save it?” he asked, ducking his head sheepishly.  “Besides, I haven’t been able to get you anything yet.”

        Her lower lip disappeared between her pearly teeth as she peeked up at him from beneath her lashes.  “You don’t have to get me anything … I’m getting you; that’s all I want.”

        “Oh, dear heart,” he whispered reverently as he slipped his hands free of her grasp and wrapped them about her trim waist, pushing her gently back against the door.  The gold handled cane clattered to the floor as she looped her arms about his neck, returning his embrace whole-heartedly.  His mouth slanted over her, claiming her bottom lip between his own.  She mewled in the most delightful way as his tongue swept along the soft pink flesh before darting between her teeth to duel with her own.

        His body surged against hers, his arms tightening about her as desire flooded his veins.  His head whirled with the drugging effects of her kisses.  For weeks now, he’d tried to keep their romantic interactions tame, not wanting to lose the tenuous hold he had over his fragile control, yet now as she released his lips to trail her own over his unshaven jaw to nip at his ear, he could feel his efforts going to hell.

        “Sweetheart … Belle, please …” he moaned as her nails dragged over his nape, gooseflesh erupting over his skin and sending a spark of pure fire to his cock.

        She nodded fervently, her lips blooming in a wicked smile.  “Yes!” she exclaimed, her belly tightening at the thought of making love with him.

        “No!”

        “What?! But –“

        “We have to stop,” he all but wept.

        “I don’t want to, though,” she cried, her lips pursing into a pout as she squirmed with need in his arms.  “I’m tired of playing.  I _want_ you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

        He pressed his brow to hers, nuzzling lovingly against her nose.  “I know, dearest, I feel the same way.”

        “But you won’t,” she whispered sadly, her lower lip trembling.

        “I want to honor you, Belle.  I will not … _cannot_ … do anything to disgrace you.”

        Belle sighed and nestled against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.  “You’re to be my husband, though.  We wouldn’t be the first to indulge before the wedding.”

        “Already, I indulge you far too much.  We shouldn’t be here now … alone and unchaperoned … snogging in a deserted corridor.  It’s unseemly.  And we certainly shouldn’t be indulging in our little late night explorations of one another before we are married.”  He sighed, dropping a lingering kiss to her brow.  “But I have a terrible time of denying you.”

        “I love you, Rum.  You’re right.  If you were less than what you are, perhaps I wouldn’t love you the same,” she admitted, seeing his point of view.  Her arms, about his waist, gave a light squeeze to reassure him that she wasn’t upset.  “Ok, now will you close your eyes?”

        He did so without hesitation as she bent to retrieve his cane from the floor and reached behind her to open the door.  He waited patiently for her to take his hands again and trusted her implicitly to lead him forward into the room.  He hadn’t even seen the suite that would be theirs for the duration of their marriage, having gone straight to the dining room for dinner.

        “No peeking,” she teased, coming to a stop and waving a hand before his face.  “Stay right here and don’t look.”

        “I won’t,” he grumbled.

        Belle pressed his cane into his hand, and moved over to the corner of the room, whipping the drape off of the ornate spinning wheel she’d ordered months ago from the finest craftsmen in the village.  She’d been so excited when Granny informed her it had been delivered only that morning and placed in his bedchamber.  “Ok, my love, you may open them.”

        Rumpelstiltskin leaned heavily upon his cane as he stared in wonder at the spinning wheel.  His throat burned and his eyes stung at the gravity of his gift.  His hand rose to his chest as if to contain his heart held within, the organ fit to burst with love for his princess.  “For m-me?” he asked, his voice a broken whisper.

        She smiled hesitantly, concerned over his reaction.  “Of course, darling.  I ordered it not long after I brought you to Avonlea.  I thought it would make you happy.  Was I wrong?” she asked, nervously wringing her hands.  “I’m not trying to replace the one your aunts left you, Rumpel.  I just thought … having more than one isn’t a bad thing … is it?”

        He ran his fingertips over the polished wheel, his eyes taking in every minute detail.  “Belle, it’s wonderful,” he breathed.  “But why would you want to give this to me back when you hardly knew me?”

        She sighed in relief over his joy at her gift.  “Because I think even then I loved you.”

        He propped his cane against the wheel and framed her face in his elegant hands.  “This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me.  Thank you.”

        Belle blushed prettily, tilting her face up for his kiss.  “I do enjoy spoiling you, my love.  The rewards are incomparable,” she cooed.  He chuckled lowly, the sound sending a shiver of desire pulsing through her.

        He glanced down at the round padded stool sitting behind the wheel.  “And I notice the stool is big enough to seat two,” he murmured, arching a brow in askance.

        She cocked her head to the side in contemplation, wondering how he would take her reasoning.  “I … um.  I thought you might like to teach me to spin, and … well, I need somewhere to sit, don’t I?”

        He lowered his lips to hers once more, nipping at them with practiced ease.  “I do love it when you’re clever, dearest.”  His smile was wicked as he put a bit of distance between himself and the temptation of her lips.  “Why don’t you go and have your bath.  Then when you’re done, we’ll see about that lesson, shall we?”

        Belle beamed up at him, excitement flooding through her.  “I’ll be back in an hour.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Christmas to you all, my darling readers. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next time … a spinning lesson, Rum’s meeting with his estate manager, and a little more with Gaz and Ruby. Hope you all have a wonderful and happy Christmas! Love and hugs to you all.
> 
>  
> 
> Fic rec of the week: ‘Dr. French and the Wily Astronaut’ by Tmich. Can be found on FFnet as well as AO3. It was my darling friend’s RSS and I think it’s really incredibly cute. So give it a read :D


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains smut, so if it's not your thing, you might want to skip it :D

 

 

        Gaston smoothed his hand down the front of his tunic, taking a moment to adjust the navy sash at his waist.  He’d discarded most of his weapons, leaving only the daggers in his boot and on his belt.  He didn’t want to scare the girl.  One just did not go a courting dressed for battle.  Even if he did feel a bit naked without his sword.  His steps almost faltered as he entered the kitchen.  The room was still busy, the maids scurrying hither and yon as they cleaned up after the evening meal and made preparations for breakfast in the morning.

        His dark eyes sought out the girl who had stolen his heart with a mere glance from her hazel orbs.  It wasn’t just her beauty that captivated him so.  No, it ran much deeper.  He now understood Belle’s fascination with her spinner when she’d first met him.  He could understand the drive she felt, the need which motivated her to accept Milah’s wager.  It was imperative that he know her.

        Granny caught his eye as he stepped over to the central work table, her own gaze narrowing upon him.  “Is there something I might help you with, Sir Gaston?  I thought you would have retired for the evening to the gaming hall with the rest of your knights.”

        Gaston smiled ruefully as he thought of Merrick and Gawain and the others.  There would be no end of ribbing should they know he’d blown off an evening of cards and billiards to chase after a kitchen maid.  “Actually, I was wondering … if I were to ask your granddaughter to accompany me for a stroll in the garden … if she were amenable, that is … would you serve as our chaperone?” he stuttered out nervously.

        Her brows disappeared near her hairline in surprise before drawing together ominously.  She set her rolling pin down, abandoning the bread she was working.  “I hope, for your sake, you’re not planning on pursuing her as one of your conquests.  I won’t stand for it, and neither will my Ruby.”

        He held up his hands in a gesture of silent truce.  “I assure you my intentions are purely honorable.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t have asked you to chaperone us,” he was quick to explain himself before she had a chance to take her rolling pin to his head.  “I simply want to speak with her.”

        She regarded him steadily as he fought not to fidget.  He was well aware any hopes he had of pursuing the girl rested with the approval of her grandmother.  “I don’t see the harm in you speaking with her … if she is _amenable_ ,” she warned, throwing his own words back at him.  She arched a silver brow at him as he continued to stand there.  “Well, go on then … ask her.”

        Gaston snapped to attention, unable to believe his luck.  He was certain Mrs. Lucas wouldn’t have wanted him anywhere near her granddaughter.  His heart fluttered as he turned to look at the object of his infatuation at the end of the long table where she was blending spices and sugar to make glaze for the morning’s batch of sticky buns Belle had requested.  A rosy blush tinted her high cheekbones, making him think he wasn’t the only one stealing surreptitious glances at the other.  He looked to Granny once more, taking her nod as a sign of encouragement, before moving off to the other end of the table.

        Ruby’s eyes slowly lifted to meet his own, mild curiosity in their hazel depths.  “Is there something I can help you with, Sir?” she asked, the melodious tones of her sweet voice washing over him like a soft caress.

        A winning smile formed on his generous lips as he bowed to her, causing her to raise her brows in surprised suspicion.  “I was … um,” he tugged at the cravat about his throat.  It made him wish Belle wouldn’t require them to wear one of the infernal things to dinner.  It was nigh choking him to death as he strove to force the words past his dry throat.  “I was wondering if perhaps you might like to take a stroll with me out in the rose garden.  It’s such a lovely evening and the sea breeze is quite warm.”  Gods!  He sounded like a bloody idiot!  It took all of his self-control not to smack his face with the flat of his palm.

        Ruby looked over at her grandmother, who shrugged, leaving the decision entirely up to her.  She smiled softly, peeking up at him from beneath her lashes as heat spread over her cheeks.  “Why would you want to walk with me, sir knight?  I’m not one of your fancy ladies from Avonlea.”

        “I know,” he murmured, his fascination with her reflected in his deep ocher eyes.  “You’re more.  Er … what I mean is.  I haven’t been interested – truly interested – in someone in a long time, and I’d really just like to walk with you, to get to know you just a little.”

        Ruby wiped her hands clean on a dish cloth and gave him her full attention, studying him closely as she searched for any sign of dishonesty in his chiseled features.  “I still have quite a bit of work to do.”

        Gaston smiled and began removing his jacket.  She hadn’t given him a flat out no, now had she?  “Then I’ll be glad to help you finish so we can have our evening stroll.”

        Her eyes widened as he picked up a damp cloth and began to wipe up the long work table.  She followed after him, quickly removing discarded bowls and utensils to carry over to the wash basin in the corner where another of the maids was washing dishes.  “Wait … sir knight –“

        “Gaston,” he reminded her.

        She blushed to the roots of her lustrous brown locks.  “Gaston … you don’t have to do this.  There are enough of us here –“

        “Then you’ve no reason not to come with me?”

        “Um …”

        “Sweet Ruby, I assure you there is nothing to fear from me,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back to remove the temptation of reaching for her hand.  He didn’t want to give her any reason to reject him out of hand.  “I’ve even asked your grandmother to accompany us so you don’t have to fear being alone with me.”

        Was there to be no end to the surprises he’d toss her way this evening, she wondered.  “You procured a chaperone for us?  Why … I mean,” she stammered, her gaze softening exponentially as she stared up into his sincere brown eyes.  “No one’s ever bothered before.”

        “I don’t mean to be crass, but I’m not out for a quick tumble.  I find I rather want to get to know you, Miss Ruby.  If you’ll allow it?”

        Granny brought a light shawl over to her granddaughter as Ruby reached for Gaston’s jacket and held it out for him.  Once he’d been set to rights, he offered her his arm, gooseflesh erupting on his skin as she slid her small hand into the crook of his elbow.  Mrs. Lucas followed at a discreet pace as he led her out of the kitchens and onto the path which led to the vast rose gardens in the rear of the castle. 

        The moon was high in the sky, full and brilliant, its beams lighting their way.  Torches were lit along the path as well to lend their light.  A soft breeze wafted in from the sea, lifting the ends of her long brown hair.  He knew the path to the left would lead them to the arbor and the one to the right would lead them to the pavilion on the beach, but he felt it would be prudent to remain in the garden.

        “I was sorry to hear of your loss, but I cannot say I’m sorry to have found you here in Dunsmore,” he said softly.  “I am rather intrigued by you, Miss Ruby.”

        Her chin tilted obstinately.  “Intrigued by just another pretty face?” she sneered, dropping her hand from his arm and folding her arms together over her chest.  “That’s all men ever seem to see.”

        Gaston led her over to a bench and urged her to sit next to him.  “It may be what drew me to you, but I believe there is more.  There is a warmth that radiates from you.  I knew I had to know you from the moment I first saw you.  Please don’t think I’m forward … I just … I’ve never felt this way before.”

        Ruby glanced down the path where her grandmother had stopped several yards away to admire a hybrid rose.  She arched a brow at the knight, feeling her heart stutter and warmth pool in her belly.  “What is it you wish to know, sir knight?” she asked, a teasing smile upon her lips.

        Gaston chuckled.  “Well, for one … why do you call me ‘sir knight’?  My name is Gaston or Gaz as my close friends like to call me.”

        She fit her hand into his warm palm and gave it a light squeeze as she tentatively bit her lip.  “I like that … your name.  It suits you well.  I don’t know if I should take the liberty, though.  We’ve just met.”

        “And yet I feel as if I’ve been waiting forever for you to come into my life,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off of her. 

        Ruby pressed her free hand to her throat, feeling as if her heart were trying to claw its way out and lay itself down at his feet.  What was wrong with her?  She’d never had such a strong reaction to a man before, and yet here she was ready to crawl onto his lap and let him kiss her senseless.  But there was nothing she could read in his eyes except heartfelt sincerity.  Her mother had often told her stories of true love and finding that one person who could reach out and touch her very soul, but they were just stories for young minds, weren’t they?  They couldn’t be real.

        “Won’t you allow me the chance to know you, sweet Ruby?” he purred, bringing her hand to his lips to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

        “W-What would you like to know?”

        The knight beamed at her before his brow crinkled into a frown.  “Um … everything?”  Now that he’d gained her acquiescence, he was at a loss as to how to proceed. 

        She laughed lightly, clearly amused.  “Where shall we begin, then?”

        “Do you like to swim?” he asked as the tangy smell of the sea carried in on the breeze.

        “I do, actually … “

        After an hour of steady questions, he knew her favorite color, what foods she enjoyed most, and what activities she loved to partake of in her spare time.  The more she spoke, the more fascinated he became.  Conversation with her was so easy and comfortable, and when it was time to return to the castle proper to bid her goodnight, he found he didn’t want to let her go.

        He held her hand in both of his as they stood at the foot of the grand staircase leading to the second floor.  “I will be escorting Mr. Madsen and Rumpelstiltskin on a tour of his new holdings tomorrow.  Perhaps when I return you might find an hour or two for a walk along the beach … or a picnic in the orchard?  Properly chaperoned of course,” he added when he saw Granny lift an imperious brow in his direction.

        “I would like that very much … Gaston,” she breathed, her eyes alight with excitement. 

        He felt it too, his mouth stretching into a wide grin.  He bowed low over her hand and brushed a lingering kiss to her knuckles.  “Then I bid you goodnight, my sweet Ruby.”

        Granny stepped to her side, relieved that she’d finally be able to seek out her own bed.  Her husband had retired hours ago, and was either dead to the world or wondering where she was.  Ruby turned to garner one last look at the knight as her grandmother led her away, her hand raising to impart a tiny wave before she disappeared down the corridor.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Will there be anything else you require this evening, m’lord?” the young servant boy asked as he set the tea tray down on a low table in the sitting area before the cold hearth.

        Rumpelstiltskin tied the sash of his brocade dressing robe over his soft cotton sleeping pants.  He still couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the silk pajamas his Belle had added to his wardrobe.  They tended to twist uncomfortably about his legs and wake him in the middle of the night.  He wondered if he’d ever get used to some things inherent to his new role.  He stepped out from behind his dressing screen, leaving the other servants to their task of emptying the tub.  “No, Micah, thank you.  You may retire for the evening if that is your wish,” he said to the boy who’d brought the tea tray.

        Baelfire slipped through the door, his bear in one arm as he rubbed his eyes with fingers of the other.  “Papa,” he said through a huge yawn, dragging tired feet over to his father.

        Rumpelstiltskin lifted his son in his arms and hugged him close, the boy’s head coming to rest on his shoulder.  “Bae, what are you still doing up?  You’re going to be too tired to go riding with Thorrin in the morning.”

        “I miss my bunnies,” he murmured, wrapping his free arm around his father’s neck, his little fingers twisting in the spinner’s hair.

        He chuckled softly as he rubbed soothing circles over Baelfire’s back.  “Are you sure that’s what’s bothering you, son? Or is it that you aren’t yet comfortable in your new room?”

        Bae shrugged one little shoulder and snuggled deeper into his father’s embrace.  “There’s no door between my room and yours,” he whined in a small voice.

        “Thorrin is with you to watch over you, dearie.”

        “I know … but it’s not the same.  And when he reads to me, he doesn’t do the voices like you and mama do.”

        Rumpelstiltskin shifted Bae in his arms and reached for his cane, carrying the boy back to his own room.  “Tomorrow, I promise to tell you a special story.  We’ll go down to the library and let you choose a book.”

        “My room smells funny,” Bae yawned.

        His father chuckled.  “In just a few weeks, we’ll be moving here permanently.  You know that,” he said, dropping a kiss to Bae’s unruly curls.  “You’ll have all your toys and books moved into your room and your bunnies out on the terrace.”  He waved Thorrin off as the young knight came forward to take Baelfire off his hands.  He laid his son on the bed and pulled the duvet up to his little chin, his fingers brushing the hair away from his brow.  “There will be horses to ride, and swimming on the sea shore …”  He smiled as Bae hugged his bear close.  “There are endless things for you to do here, son.  It will just take time to adjust … just as you did in Avonlea.”

        Bae’s eyes were already beginning to close, lulled by the deep soothing tone of his papa’s voice.  “You won’t leave me, will you, papa?” he murmured sleepily.  “Or mama?”

        The spinner’s lips parted in surprise before he gnashed his teeth with suppressed anger.  He forced a smile for his son.  “Of course not, Bae.  Your mama and I love you more than anything, do you hear?  Nothing will take us away from you … I promise,” he vowed.

        “I love you, papa.”

        “And I love you, Bae.”

        The boy rolled over onto his side, his arms wrapped tightly about his stuffed bear as his eyes closed, a soft sigh leaving his lips.  Rumpelstiltskin remained by his side until he was sure his son was asleep.  He kissed his brow once more before levering himself to his feet.  Thorrin looked up at him expectantly, setting aside the book he was studying on warfare in the far east.

        “Let me know immediately if he wakes in the night,” the spinner instructed.

        “Of course, Rum.  I’ll watch over the lad.”

        Rumpelstiltskin bid him goodnight, and made his way out into the corridor.  He leaned heavily against the wall for a moment, fighting the urge to smash something with his cane.  Milah had scarred their child.  No matter how brave Baelfire tried to be, he still had a deep-seated fear of losing his parents.  “Damn that witch!” he raged, slamming his bedchamber door behind him.

        Belle started, pausing in the connecting door between their rooms.  She turned back to her own room.  “Thank you, Olivia, that will be all,” she said quietly to her maid.

        “But, mistress –“

        “You are free to retire, dear,” the princess said in a gentle yet commanding tone which brooked no objection.

        The maid curtsied and left her mistress alone.  Belle closed the door and locked it behind her before making her way over to the sitting area where her betrothed paced angrily before the cold hearth.  She poured tea into two cups and prepared them for consumption, eyeing him warily.  She didn’t speak, giving him the time he needed to calm down.  Finally, he took the cup and drank deeply.

        “What has happened, Rum?  It’s been quite a while since you’ve been so upset,” she murmured softly.

        “Bae … he’s still fearful of losing us, Belle,” he said, his voice an agonized whisper.  “Because of what Milah did.”

        “She was his mother, Rumpel.  It had to have traumatized him to see her _sell_ him.”

        He set his teacup down on the table, his hands fisting at his sides as he rose to move to the spinning wheel.  “Gods can only imagine what she might have done if he would have remained with her.  Would she have let the success of ridding herself of her husband bleed over onto our son?  Would she have wagered him and lost him as she did me?”

        He sat heavily on the padded stool and dropped his head into his hands, his fingers pulling at his hair.  Belle went to him, sitting down on his left knee as she wrapped her arms about him, bringing his head to rest against her shoulder.  “Stop torturing yourself with thoughts of what could have happened.  He’s here … he’s safe with us.  Nothing is ever going to take him from us,” she breathed gently against the shell of his ear.

        “She might come back one day, and then –“

        “That woman hasn’t a leg to stand on, Rum.  I have the contract she signed and we have my father – the king – who will stand at our side should she try anything.”  She carded her fingers through his soft hair and felt him relax.  “And you are now a noble in your own right.  You offer him your own protection.  Don’t fret, my love.”

        “We can’t lose him, Belle.”

        “We won’t.”

        Rumpelstiltskin moved her off his lap and helped her settle onto the stool between his spread legs, wrapping his arms about her waist and pulling her back to rest against his chest.  He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in, her sweet floral scent enveloping him in her warmth and love.  She grounded him, chasing away his fears and making everything right with his world.  “I love you, my Belle.”

        Her hand snaked up and around his nape, her fingers tugging gently at the ends of his hair.  “I love you too, Rumpelstiltskin.  Always.”

        Some of the tension left him, the longer he held her, but he knew it wouldn’t completely dissipate.  He pressed his lips to the ivory column of her throat, leaving a trail of heat along her smooth skin.  He could feel the shift of muscle in her delicate jaw as she smiled.  “I thought you were going to teach me how to spin.”

        “Aye … if it is still your wish,” he said, his low voice gravelly and warm.  At her nod, he reached for the basket of roving which had been provided.  He tried to focus on his task as he showed her how to feed it onto the base of the spindle.

        “Like this?” she asked, tying it off.  She fought back a hum of pleasure as his hands cradled hers, his body pressing tightly against her back as he guided her.  It was becoming hard to concentrate and she didn’t want him to think she wasn’t taking him seriously.  Wait … how had the fibers spiraled up to the tip of the spindle?

        His lips brushed against her ear, his words a gentle caress.  “Are you alright, Belle?” he asked, pausing in his instruction.

        “F-Fine,” she stammered, giving herself a mental shake.  “Why?”

        “Your grip is too loose.  Take a handful of the roving in your left hand and hold it firmly.”  She nodded, gripping it tightly.  “Not too tight, love.  Just firmly enough to provide the right tension.”  The fingers of his right hand trailed from her shoulder to her wrist, gooseflesh erupting in their path before his hand closed over hers and guided it to the great wheel.  His other hand helped her adjust the angle and tension where she held the wool fibers.

        She relaxed back into his embrace, her eyes drooping as desire pooled low in her belly.  It wasn’t easy to ignore the fire he ignited within her whether it was intentional or not.  His thumb ghosted over hers and she eased her grip, earning his praise.  “How fast do I turn the wheel?” she asked breathily.

        “Slowly, dearest.  It’s imperative to go slowly.  Sync the turn of the wheel with your left hand.  Let it flow smoothly through your fingers …”

        The thread knotted as his nose brushed lightly at the curve of her neck.  He chuckled.  “It’s not funny.  I’m terrible at this,” she groaned.

        “No, you’re not … you’re learning.  It takes time,” he explained as his arms wound around her to repair her mistake.  “Try again. A bit slower this time.  Concentrate.”

        He removed his hands from hers, letting her try on her own.  Her first attempt was a mess, filled with thick spots interspersed with spots too thin.  He helped her affix the next batch of roving to the spindle and settled his hands over her belly, whispering instruction softly into her ear.  As he watched, he allowed his mind to wander as it would if he were spinning himself.

        Belle sucked in a sharp breath, her hands stilling in her motions as his fingertips traveled delicately over her ribs, his thumbs brushing the sensitive undersides of her breasts.  “Rum …”

        His lips closed over a patch of skin just beneath her right ear, sucking gently.  She gasped as he worried the spot with his teeth, pressing back against him as her hands gripped tightly to the firm muscles of his thighs.  “I need you, Belle,” he said, barely a whisper of breath passing his lips.  “I _need_ you … so much.”

        She whimpered weakly, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to her throat.  “I’m here, love … I’m here,” she tried to reassure him.

        Rumpelstiltskin curled his hand around her neck, his thumb brushing over her jaw and the pulse that rapidly beat there as he pressed his brow to hers.  “You don’t realize just how much you mean to me, Belle.  You saved me … me and Bae.”  His nose nuzzled against hers in a tender caress as he fought to make the words pass his numb lips.  “You showed me what it is to have someone love me … really _love_ me.  I never had that before.  S-Sometimes I don’t want to go to sleep at night.  I’m afraid it’s all a dream and I’ll wake up … and you’ll be gone.” A single tear slid over his cheek, dropping to mingle with one of her own.  “I don’t think I could bear it.  I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

        Belle smiled sadly as she slipped from his embrace and stood before him.  Very slowly she untied the sash of her dressing robe and pushed it off over her shoulders to pool at her feet. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his dark eyes traveled over her silk clad curves.  She cradled his face in her hands as his eyes slipped closed, his breathing heavy.  “Look at me, Rumpel,” she whispered.

        He shook his head as much as possible with the way she was holding him.  “I’ve ruined another evening for us, haven’t I?” he choked out over the lump of emotion in his throat.  “I’m sorry, dear heart.”

        “Of course not,” she protested, but still he wouldn’t raise his gaze to meet hers.  “I enjoyed my little lesson – perhaps a little too much – and we can continue tomorrow if you wish.”  Just now he needed her comfort, her love, and she was determined to see to his needs.  She released her tender grasp on his unshaven cheeks to grab hold of his shoulders, steadying herself as she hiked up her nightdress and straddled his thighs.

        He couldn’t help but bring his startled gaze up to meet hers, her face mere inches from his as she settled herself comfortably on his lap.  “Belle, I –“

        Her petal soft lips cut off his protests as she plundered his mouth.  He moaned as her tongue flicked over the roof of his mouth before circling around his own.  She left him breathless and panting, putty in her capable hands as his arms crushed her to his chest.  She pulled away, drawing in a lungful of much needed air, carding her fingers through the graying hair at his temples.  “Thank you,” she breathed, her warm breath fanning against his lips.

        “W-What? Why are you thanking m-me?” he asked, dumbfounded and slightly dazed.

        She dropped another kiss to his lips as she pressed closer, enjoying the heat radiating from his body.  “Because, my love … you shared your fears with me instead of hiding them as you’ve done before.  You’re growing.  You’re no longer under her influence and it shows, Rum.”

        He met her gaze trustingly, focusing on her words.  She was proud of him … _him_ , a poor spinner.  That was all he really was, all she truly wanted.  He would play the role he’d been thrust into, but she would always know who he was beneath the mask, and want him just the way he was.  “Yours, Belle.  I am yours,” he gasped as her hands trailed over his chest and lower.

        “Mine,” she murmured possessively.  “My Rumpel.”  Her deft fingers made quick work of the tie at his waist and her hands slipped inside to caress the flat plane of his stomach, his muscles leaping reflexively beneath her fingertips.  She watched him from beneath her lashes as her nails trailed up his ribs and over his chest as it rapidly rose and fell with each panting breath.  She could feel the heat of his touch settle over her hips, drawing her closer.  Her lips captured his in a gentle kiss as her hands came to rest on his shoulders beneath his robe, ready to push it off his arms.  “Do you want me to stop?”

        Belle was nearly as breathless as he was as his gaze bored into hers.  When he didn’t answer, she ground her hips down, the heat of her core coming into direct contact with his turgid arousal, searing him through his cotton trousers.  Rumpelstiltskin tossed his head back, moaning deep in his throat as pleasure coursed through his body.  “No!  No … please, Belle … don’t stop.  Don’t leave me,” he said thickly.

        She pushed his robe off of his shoulders, her hands free to explore his chest.  It felt so good to touch him, to know he was hers, now and always.  She took advantage of his position, her lips mapping a path of fire over his collarbone and up the delicious column of his throat.  Her teeth nipped lightly at his ear as she whispered hotly, “I’ll never leave you, Rum.  I love you …”

        Belle wrapped her arms about his neck, holding tightly to him as she rocked her hips against him.  He hissed sharply through his teeth as his body surged to life., his arm coiling about her waist as his free hand ghosted along her side until he could cup her breast in his warm palm.  His touch sent heat spiraling through her, her skin tingling with sensations only he could invoke in her.  Her core throbbed and her belly tightened, and she couldn’t keep still.  She needed to move.  She needed to feel his desire for her against the most intimate part of her body.  She needed to take the same pleasure she knew she was giving to him.

        Belle threw her head back with a keening cry as he pulled the strap of her gown low on her shoulder and took her into his mouth, his hot wet tongue rasping over her nipple.  Her gown pooled at her waist as she pulled her arms free, returning them to his shoulders, clinging desperately to him as he sought to devour her.  She rocked harder against him, his cloth covered cock bumping her clit in just the right way.  Her fingers twisted in his hair, almost to the point of pain as he sucked greedily at her.

        He grunted softly as she dragged his mouth back to hers, swallowing down her breathy little moans and sighs as she edged closer to her climax.  He thrust against her, feeling his own pleasure building.  “That’s it, love.  Take what you want.  Find your pleasure.”

        She whimpered helplessly as she increased her pace, but still she couldn’t drive herself over the edge.  Too much heat, too much need, and yet … “Rum … I can’t!  Need more… please,” she cried, pleading in the cerulean depths of her eyes.

        His hot tongue returned to her breasts, drawing on her once more as his hand found its way between them, his fingers dipping into her sodden folds to tease her.  She ground down on his digits as they found her entrance, her inner walls fluttering around him.  His teeth grazed her nipple, pulling on it gently as he watched her mouth form a little o of surprise.  He was so close, his control a long forgotten memory, and he didn’t want to come without her.  “Now, Belle,” he commanded gently, feeling his balls draw up close to his body.  “Please, love.”

        His fingers hit just the right spot as his thumb pressed down directly onto her clit, and she was lost.  Lost in a sea of swirling colors which threatened to carry her away on a wave of indescribable pleasure.  He shuddered beneath her, wrapping her tightly in his embrace as he fought to remain upright.  He was seconds away from toppling off that blasted stool and he’d be damned before he allowed her to be hurt.  He fought to regain his breath as he eased her through her climax, thankful for the presence of mind to see to her needs before his own.  Nothing was more precious to him in that moment … any moment … than his princess, his beloved.

        Belle hummed, pressing a light kiss to his throat, her arms still wound tightly about his neck.  “L-Love y-you, Rumpel.”

        “I love you too, dear heart,” he panted, stroking over her back to soothe her.

        She raised her head to press her brow to his, nuzzling against his nose.  “Y’know as much as I enjoy these little interludes, I really can’t wait for us to be married.”  She sipped at his lips, reveling in the feel of his pressed so delightfully to hers.  “I want so badly to feel you inside me.”

        Rumpelstiltskin groaned, his cock twitching in anticipation.  “I want that too, sweetheart … more than you know.”  She pulled the straps of her gown back to their place on her shoulders, and leaned heavily against his shoulder, already losing the battle against her fatigue.  He held her tightly as he struggled to his feet and made his way towards the bed, despite her protests that he’d hurt his ankle.  He laid her down gently on the cool burgundy sheets and pulled the duvet over her as he disappeared behind the screen to clean up and change into a fresh pair of pants.

        She was asleep when he returned to her side, spooning his body against her back and dropping a kiss to her nape.  “I love you, my princess,” he whispered, soon slipping into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed it :D I’m really enjoying the rose red ship … a lot. Next chapter Rum meets Mr. Madsen, Bae makes a new friend, and a lovely picnic in the orchard. The wedding is only one more short chapter away. Are you ready for it? Thank you all so much for reading and taking this journey with me.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry there’s no fic rec this week. Still going through all the lovely RSS fics and I think pretty much everyone is reading those as well.


	20. Chapter 20

 

        Belle yawned as she slowly came awake, a frown marring her smooth brow as she tried to identify the sound which had disturbed her.  From the light coming in through the curtains, she knew it was close to dawn, and entirely too early for her to be awake. A quick glance over her shoulder through bleary eyes showed her beloved sound asleep, his nose buried in the soft curls gathered at her nape.  The little fingers wrapped around her left arm tightened as Baelfire snuffled softly in his sleep, drawing her attention to him.  His other hand was wrapped securely in the soft fur of his bear, which he’d brought with him when he’d crawled into bed with them.

        She pulled her little son closer – without waking him – and softly kissed his smooth cheek, happiness washing over her.  When Lucern had married the previous year, she’d been so ecstatic for him.  Her brother had deserved every bit of the happiness Lyssa brought to his life.  But she couldn’t help but find herself feeling the sharp sting of jealousy.  She’d wondered why she had never been able to find the same for herself.  A husband and children hadn’t been as high on her list of priorities as her duty to her kingdom or the knowledge she sought in her books.  Her father had despaired as well as she’d continued to grow older and hadn’t found anyone she wanted to share her life with.  Thankfully, however, Maurice was more concerned with his children finding their own happily ever after than forcing them to marry to produce heirs.

        Now, she often found herself thanking the gods for finally sending her not just a man who fed her soul with joy and love, but also a son … a son who accepted her as his mother even if she hadn’t given birth to him herself.  He needed her just as much as she did him.  Bae and Rumpelstiltskin were her entire world, and she couldn’t wait for them to marry and begin their lives together as husband and wife.

        She smiled as soft lips brushed over her nape.  “It’s still early,” she whispered.  “Go back to sleep.”

        He made a soft sound of pleasure at the back of his throat as he nuzzled at her neck and caressed her belly through the thin nightdress she wore.  “Then why aren’t you sleeping, my princess,” he purred contentedly.

        She kept her voice whisper soft.  “It seems our son is having trouble adjusting to our new home.”

        The spinner lifted his head and peered over her shoulder through the dim light in their room to see Baelfire nestled on Belle’s other side.  “Why didn’t you wake me when he crawled into bed with us?”

        “Because he’s a sneaky little cherub, and I didn’t even notice,” she chuckled.  “It’s fine, my love.  I don’t want you to scold him for it.  If he’s feeling insecure and needs us in the night, I want him to know he’s welcome in our bed.”

        Rumpelstiltskin pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, his heart filled with love for the woman in his arms.  “You’re such a good mother, Belle.”

        “I’m trying, Rum.  It’s rather easy when we have such a wonderful little boy to call our own, yeah?”

        He stretched and leaned up to squint at the ornate clock on the night table.  It was already after six and they had quite the day ahead of them.  If he went back to sleep now, it would just make him feel more tired and grumpy because of it.  Several floors below, he could hear the castle stirring to life.  “Would you like me to ring for tea?” he asked, his hand idly tracing her side.

        “Mmm,” she hummed.  “That sounds lovely.  Jefferson should be here soon so the two of you can get an early start.”  Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room to ring the bellpull.  “Are you certain you don’t want me to accompany you?”

        He shook his head as he tied the sash of his dressing robe.  “No, I want to do this on my own, dear one,” he said with a grin.  “I want to prove my competence.”

        “Rum, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she protested.

        “Perhaps I need to prove to myself that I can do this.”

        Belle wrangled her arm away from Baelfire’s fierce grip and propped herself up on her elbow.  “You’re going to do grand, my love.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s cheeks flushed a light shade of pink under her praise.  “I shall try not to disappoint you.”

        “As if you could,” she scoffed.

        Bae rolled over, abandoning his bear to throw his arm around his mother’s waist.  “Mornin’, mama.”

        Belle leaned over and kissed his soft cheek.  “Good morning, my angel.  Did you sleep well?”

        The boy nodded.  “I had a bad dream, but it went away when I found you,” he murmured, ducking his head against her shoulder.  “Is that ok, mama?”

        “Of course it is, darling.  I think you had a bad dream because you’re in a new place.  Soon you’ll see there’s no monsters lurking in the shadows and be able to sleep in your own bed,” she said gently.

        He gave her a warm hug, happy that she hadn’t been angry with him for seeking them out in the night, and sat up to smile at his father.  A soft knock sounded at the door and Rumpelstiltskin crossed the room to unlock the door.

        Ruby managed a stiff curtsey as she entered the room.  “M’lord,” she acknowledged.  She stopped midstride, nearly stumbling, her eyes wide as she took in the princess lounging in the middle of Rumpelstiltskin’s bed.  “Highness! Um … ah …” she stammered.

        Belle chuckled.  “Good morning, Ruby,” she said, rising and reaching for her dressing robe.  She ignored the girl’s astonishment and moved to the sitting area to pour tea.

        Bae hurried after her, rubbing his eyes.  “Sticky buns!” he exclaimed, kneeling next to the coffee table and draping a linen napkin over his lap before reaching for one to put on his plate.

        “Rumpel, darling, come have tea with us before you begin dressing,” she called to him, stirring a measure of sugar and lemon into his cup.  “Ruby, has Mr. Madsen arrived yet?”

        “Yes, highness,” she answered, clasping her hands before her as she awaited further instruction.  “He was just arriving as I was on my way up.  He’s brought his daughter along as well.”

        “Oh, good.  I was hoping he would.  I think Grace will get along well with Bae.”  She smiled at her son.  “Would you like some company on your ride with Thorrin this morning?”

        “Is she nice?” the boy asked, picking apart his sticky bun, his fingers coated with cinnamon and sugar.

        “She’s very nice. And not much older than you are.”

        “I guess it would be alright, mama,” he said, looking to his father for his opinion.

        Rumpelstiltskin took the cup Belle offered and sat down next to her on the settee.  “It will be nice to make new friends, Bae.”  He sipped gingerly from his cup as his fingers curled idly in his beloved’s long unbound locks.

        Baelfire shrugged and finished off his pastry before asking to be excused.  “Have fun today, papa!” he chirped as he hurried to the door.  He was looking forward to meeting the girl and wanted to dress and go downstairs.  “See you at noon, mama.”

        Ruby fidgeted, casting furtive glance at the princess.  She had been more than a little surprised to answer the new lord’s summons only to find Belle in bed with him.  “Highness, if you wish, I could lay out your clothes for the day?  Micah should be along soon to help m’lord dress.”

        “Where is Olivia?” Belle asked curiously as she plated a bun for her to share with Rumpelstiltskin.  “I thought she would be serving me this morning.”

        “She’s … um … otherwise occupied,” the young maid hedged.

        Belle hid a smile behind her hand as she stared at Ruby.  “Uh oh. Who did Granny find her with … Merrick or Gawain?  Oh don’t look at me like that,” she chortled.  “I know she fancies them both.”

        Ruby couldn’t hide her smirk.  “It was Gawain, I believe.  Granny wasn’t forthcoming with the ‘who’ of it all.  She set Liv to scrubbing out all the hearths on the third floor.  Figured she wouldn’t be wanting to let the knight steal kisses if she was filthy and grimy.”

        Rumpelstiltskin chuckled around a bite of warm sticky bun.  “Gaston will surely have to have words with Gawain this morning.  I’m surprised we can’t hear his guffaws from the floor below.”

        Ruby flushed bright red at the mention of Gaston.  It didn’t go unnoticed by Belle.  She turned to Rumpelstiltskin and pressed a sticky kiss to his lips before rising to her feet.  “I’m going to get dressed, darling.  Jefferson will meet you in the foyer within the hour, I’m sure”

        “Belle …” he murmured as he rose unsteadily and caught her hand.  “Do you really think –“

        Her hand rose to cup his stubbled cheek, her eyes soft as she met his gaze.  “You’re going to do fine, my love.  Jefferson is a good man … if a bit eccentric.  I think you’ll get on quite well.”  She leaned up to brush her lips to his.  “Relax and be yourself.”  He shivered as her cheek pressed to his and her warm breath fanned over the shell of his ear.  “I’ll be waiting for you.”

        He watched her go, feeling the confidence surge in his chest.  He could do this … for her.  A smile bloomed on his lips as he took up his cane and disappeared behind his dressing screen.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin traversed the long corridors and various staircases leading from their tower suite, thankful Belle had insisted he continue to use his cane.  His ankle was so much better than it had ever been since he’d injured it the first time, but so much disuse had weakened it.  It would be a while before he could discard the cane for good.  He reminded himself to hold his head high, mimicking the behavior of the nobles residing in Avonlea in the king’s court instead of keeping it meekly lowered as was his habit.

        Tension built in his shoulders as he nodded to yet another servant in passing.  The sheer amount of ‘m’lords’ he’d heard that morning had the pressure building behind his eyes.  Did it matter that he didn’t want to be known to everyone as the lord of the manor?  He just wanted to be Belle’s husband and Baelfire’s papa … just Rumpelstiltskin.  But he would always do what was best for his family.  As a lord, he was worthy to be the princess’s husband.  He gave himself a mental shake.  Belle would scold him if she could hear his thoughts.  She had fallen in love with a peasant and in her heart it was a peasant she would marry without a qualm.  He couldn’t help the smile which bloomed on his lips as he pictured her in his mind’s eye.  It didn’t take a genius to know that he’d merely existed before he’d met Belle.  He hadn’t truly begun to live until she’d so thoroughly claimed his heart.

        “G’mornin’ m’lord,” a petite little blonde maid chirped as he came upon her in the main hall.  She dipped into a curtsey and smiled warmly.  “Mr. Madsen is in the blue salon.”

        “Thank you … ah –“

        “Amelia, m’lord.”

        “Thank you, Amelia.  It’s going to take me a while to learn all of your names,” he said apologetically.  The girl pointed him in the right direction, executed a quick curtsey and returned to her dusting.

        Jefferson Madsen, the estate manager, was nothing like what he’d expected when he entered the salon.  He was young, somewhere in his mid-thirties, with an amiable smile and a ready handshake.  “M’lord,” he greeted.  “Jefferson Madsen at your service.”

        “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mad – “

        “Please, call me Jefferson.”

        The spinner let go of the man’s hand and nodded.  “Alright,” he agreed.  “And since we’ll be working together, feel free to call me Rumpelstiltskin.”

        Jefferson’s lips spread wide in a Cheshire grin.  “That’s quite a mouthful.  Your father not like you to give you such a tongue twister of a name?”

        Rumpelstiltskin eyed the man, taking his measure and liking what he saw.  “Actually, yeah.  He was a right foul bastard,” he said, wondering how Jefferson would take his bluntness.

        He tilted his head to the side in surprise and then huffed a short laugh.  “Mine was no prize either, to be honest.  Which is why after my wife died, I made a vow to do everything in my limited power to make a good life for my daughter, Grace.  She was rather excited to go riding this morning with your son.”

        “You met my Baelfire?”

        Jefferson’s grin widened.  “Indeed.  He’s a charming little scamp.  I’m sure he and my Grace will get along famously.”  He motioned towards the door with an elegant hand.  “Shall we?  I thought it would be good to have a look at your holdings and then tomorrow we would go over the books.”

        The earl followed the man as they made their way out into the courtyard where a small carriage awaited.  Gaston stood nearby, ready to mount Storm and lead them off into the village.  Once Rumpelstiltskin was seated, Jefferson took up the reins, the gentle mare stepping into a brisk trot.

        Jefferson turned off of the coast road leading up to the palace, the cobbles near the castle tapering off onto a well-maintained dirt track as it led into a small forest.  “Dunsmore is quite prosperous,” he said, noticing Rumpelstiltskin’s wary searching gaze as his eyes strayed over and over again to the dense foliage.  “We’ve no problems with bandits here.  Though, I daresay, you could probably have no difficulty beating them off with that cane.”

        Rumpelstiltskin chose not to answer.  He had never been the violent type; one of the reasons why he’d been such a pitiful specimen – at least in his own self-loathing opinion – to draft into the ogre war.  However, he knew if his family were threatened, he would take up arms to protect them without a second thought.  Madsen chose to take the long way around the village, pointing out crops of rich green tea, wheat, corn, and various root vegetables.  Acres upon acres of bountiful crops flourishing under the morning sun.

        “This is a farming village, more or less, though we do have a few fishermen who live here.  Market day is especially busy as the outlying villages of Tannen and Lassiter flock to Dunsmore to sell their wares.”

        The spinner’s gaze was enraptured by the bounty before him.  “It seems our king brings prosperity to everything he touches.”

        “Actually, Dunsmore belongs to our princess.  It is her good works that have so touched this land.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s brows shot up.  “I knew of her works with the orphanage, but – “

        Jefferson nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.  “The old earl – King Maurice’s younger brother – died when the twins were about sixteen.  The king wanted to give the holding to our prince, but changed his mind.  Instead he added it to Belle’s dowry and taught her everything she needed to know about being it’s mistress..  She would spend part of each month here at Dunsmore castle to learn everything she could about being a landowner and benefactor to the village so she could help her future husband.  She hired me as her estate manager not long after I’d moved here.”

        Rumpelstiltskin felt some of his tension and unease melt away, and he settled more comfortably against the fine leather seat of the carriage.  Belle knew everything there was to know about Dunsmore, and it seemed Jefferson did too.  He would have no trouble learning all he needed to know with them at his side. 

        Jefferson pointed the carriage in a new direction, bringing them down a lane filled with a multitude of colorful cottages, most with their own little vegetable patch and some with well-tended flower beds.  The man pointed to a cottage with lavender and white wisteria growing on one side.  “That’s my home there,” he said proudly.  His smile turned wistful.  “I still remember the day I brought my Alice home and carried her over the threshold.”

        Rumpelstiltskin’s brow knitted in sympathy.  “How long ago did you lose her?  Belle mentioned it was just you and Grace.”

        Jefferson glanced over at the earl, his eyes growing misty.  “Grace was three, so seven years this spring.  We had an unexpectedly cold winter that year.  It was nearing the beginning of March and it snowed, if you’d believe it.  Quite uncommon in this region.  My Alice had gone to help one of our neighbors with her first child.  She fell ill a few days later; pneumonia the doctor said.”

        The earl nodded.  “I’m terribly sorry for your loss,” he said.  He didn’t even want to think of what he’d become if something happened to his Belle.

        Jefferson urged the horse back into a trot and led them towards the center of town.  “So, what of you.  Rumor has it you were just a poor spinner before coming to work for our princess, and then by a twist of fate you saved her brother.  Must’ve been quite a change for you.”

        Rumpelstiltskin huffed a short breathy laugh.  “You don’t know how much, my friend.  Did you also happen to hear how she acquired me as her servant?”

        “No.  I don’t think anyone knows that story,” he said, casting the spinner a curious glance.

        “Perhaps later I might share that story with you,” Rumpelstiltskin said as Madsen brought the carriage to a halt before the stables.

        “I look forward to it.  After I’ve shown you around a bit, we can indulge in some mead at the tavern.”

        Gaston dismounted beside them and tossed a coin to the stable lad to care for the carriage and his great black steed.  “So where to first?” the knight asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

        Jefferson tipped his hat at a passing blonde.  “Good morning, Mrs. Olsen.”  The woman smiled and nodded, returning the greeting before continuing on her way.  He squinted against the morning sun and led the men towards the apothecary.  Next was the bakery, the milliner, the tailor – he skipped the seamstress shop and the orphanage, leaving that for Belle to show him when she ventured to town with her betrothed on a future trip. 

        “What’s this shop?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, peering into a dark shop which was clearly vacant.  It wasn’t as well-maintained as the others and the windows were coated with grime.

        Jefferson stopped and tilted his head to the side.  “It was once a spinner’s shop.  It’s been closed about five years now.  The master spinner fell for a weaver’s daughter in Lassiter and they married.  Her dowry was a part of her father’s business.  His apprentices were shipped off to Avonlea to work for the king and no others showed interest in reopening the shop.”

        “But the craft can be taught,” Rumpelstiltskin argued.  “I’m sure there must be someone here in the village who would be willing to learn.  More could be hired as apprentices, and others could be taught to weave.  The thread, yarns and cloth made here could supply the tailor and seamstress shops, and …”  He ducked his head and shook it ruefully.  “I’m sorry, I just … I’m rather passionate about my former trade.”

        Gaston grinned and clapped Rumpelstiltskin on the back.  “Sounds like you could have this place up and running within a month with your vast knowledge.  You might want to think about it after the wedding.”

        Color tinged the spinner’s cheeks at his friend’s praise, but thankfully he could brush it off under the morning sun.  The shop was definitely something he wanted to consider.  As they continued on with the tour, the earl was introduced to more and more townspeople, who all greeted him warmly.  He tried his best to hold his head high and meet them all eye to eye.  It was nothing like his village in the Frontlands where everyone scorned him for the coward he was.  Here they greeted him as their new liege lord and all with a smile of welcome.  He was looking forward to getting to know them. 

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle sighed happily as she strolled through the castle, her arm linked with Ruby’s.  She’d missed her friend while she’d been away.  It didn’t take them long to find themselves in the kitchen.  The princess loved spending time there, the cavernous room a hive of activity and warmth.  Granny presented her cheek for Belle to kiss before the girl settled on a stool to have a cup of tea.

        “How was your first night in the castle, m’girl?  Did you sleep well?” the woman asked as she set to rolling out crusts for the tarts she was making.

        Ruby snorted as she reached for a handful of dough from the large bowl on the worktable.  “I’d say she slept well,” she mumbled under her breath.

        “What was that?” Granny asked as Belle flushed scarlet.  “Speak up, girl.  What’ve I told you about mumbling?”

        Belle’s azure eyes sparkled with mischief.  “I believe she’s referring to finding me in Rumpel’s bed this morning.”  The old woman opened her mouth to scold the princess, but Belle cut her off.  “It was nothing tawdry, Gran.  Baelfire was with us.”

        “Well, he _is_ your betrothed, m’girl.  A betrothal is just as binding as a marriage, and you wouldn’t be the first to have succumbed before the actual wedding,” she said calmly, though she frowned in disapproval.

        Belle suddenly felt as she had when she was eight and she and Lucern had been caught filching cookies from the cooling racks before dinner.  “I’m still a maid, Gran,” she assured the woman.  “Rumpel is adamant about remaining … um … about us not doing _that_ until our wedding night.  He’s an honorable man.”

        The earl went up several notches in the woman’s estimation.  “That’s good to hear.  At least I won’t have to worry about your virtue while you’re here,” she snarked.

        Belle reached for a hot cherry tart from the cooling rack, nearly moaning in bliss as the sweet fruit burst over her palate.  No one in the kingdom made pastries as delicious as those which came from Granny’s kitchen.  “Oh, these are so good.  Granny, as much as I love these, would you consider making some with peaches for Rum?  He loves peaches.”  She giggled.  “You should’ve seen him when he first came to Avonlea and was introduced to foods he’d never been exposed to in the Frontlands.  I’ve never seen anyone eat so much fruit.”

        Ruby and her grandmother both joined in the laughter.  “That couldn’t have been good for his stomach,” the younger Lucas stated as she spooned cherry filling onto the little rounds of dough. 

        Belle wrinkled her nose.  “No, it wasn’t.”  She sipped gingerly at her tea, her smile fading as she recalled how thin and malnourished her sweet spinner had been when he’d first come to live at the palace.  It seemed everyone had been throwing food at him left and right, wanting to see his health improve.  She gave herself a shake and changed the subject before Ruby or Granny could see her bout of melancholy.  “So, Ruby, how was your evening?”

        Her friend flushed a vivid pink and put more effort into her work.  “It was nice,” she hedged.

        Granny snorted.  “Just nice, eh?  I’ll be sure to tell Sir Gaston how little you enjoyed his company when next I see him.”

        Just as quickly as she’d blushed, the girl’s face drained of color.  “Gran, no!  Um … I mean … that won’t be necessary.”

        Belle giggled and poured more tea into her cup.  “Does this mean you’re a bit taken with Gaz?”

        “Er …”

        “She is indeed.  Never seen her so tongue tied over a lad before.  Marco was rather amused when I told him about her suitor.”

        Ruby smirked at her grandmother.  “Grandpa finds everything amusing,” she drawled in a dry tone.  She cleaned her hands on a dish cloth and carried the sheet pan to the oven.  She winked at Belle.  “He’s very, _very_ nice … for a knight.  He’s not at all crass or brutish as I would have expected.”

        “Alright enough of this gossiping.  If Belle wants peach tarts for her betrothed, you will have to go on out to the orchard to bring in some fresh fruit.  I used the last jar of spiced peaches on that cobbler last week, if you’ll remember,” Granny said, going to the cupboard to fetch some baskets.  “You may go with her, m’girl.  It would do you good to take in the morning air … put a bit of color in your cheeks.”

        Belle eagerly took a basket and hooked it over her arm.  Ruby took the other basket from her grandmother with a suspicious look.  “You mean I don’t have to be on kitchen duty this morning?”

        “Go on … before I change my mind.”  She couldn’t begrudge the girl time with her friend when Belle would only be a Dunsmore for a few days.  She smiled to herself as the girl skipped out through the back door which led into the gardens, happy to see them enjoy themselves.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Mama!  Mama!” Bae called as he left the path to run through the cool green grass covering the verdant floor of the orchard.  Thorrin wasn’t far behind, and neither were Rumpelstiltskin and Gaston.

        Belle dropped a handful of peaches into her basket and dropped to one knee to take him into her embrace, her arms wrapping around him as he hugged her tightly.  “Hello, my darling boy.  Did you have a good time on your ride?”

        “I had so much fun!” he gushed.  “But come see, papa has a surprise for you.”

        She brushed her hands over her skirts and followed after him, happy to hear her love had returned.  Her lips parted on a small gasp as she and Baelfire emerged from the trees into a small clearing where her betrothed awaited, leaning on his cane.  Spread about his booted feet was a large blanket and atop it sat a huge wicker basket.  He opened his arms to her and she inwardly rejoiced to be reunited with him.

        “My princess,” he breathed as his nose nuzzled at the curls over the dainty shell of her ear.  “I missed you today.”

        Belle brought her lips to his in a tender kiss despite their son’s woeful groan.  “I missed you as well, my love.  How did it go with Jefferson?  Please tell me you enjoyed yourself, at least.”

        “Mr. Madsen is a very likeable fellow.  I look forward to working with him,” he said, grinning as he urged her to sit down on the red, black and white tartan blanket.  He gestured to the basket Baelfire was already rummaging through as he lowered himself down beside her.  “When I returned and Mrs. Lucas told me you were picking fruit in the orchard … well, I thought you might enjoy a little picnic.”

        She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek and guided her face up to his, his lips feather light against hers.  “It was a wonderful idea.  I’m famished.”

        “It’s after midday, highness.  It’s no wonder you’re hungry,” Ruby said from where she stood nearby with Gaston, her small hand wrapped securely within his.

        Belle smiled, her eyes sparkling with deviltry.  “Ruby, would you be so kind as to fetch us some mead?  It seems whomever packed the basket didn’t include anything to quench our thirst.”

        “But, mama –“

        Rumpelstiltskin clapped a hand over his son’s mouth and smiled unrepentantly up at the pair.  “Yes, and what’s a picnic without something with which to wash it all down?”  He smirked at the knight who seemed barely able to take his eyes off of the pretty maid.  “Gaston, you should go with her … er … to help her carry it back.”

        “That’s a wonderful idea,” Belle chimed.

        Gaston bowed to them, winking at Belle as he straightened.  “We shall return shortly, m’lady.”

        Rumpelstiltskin chuckled as the pair disappeared down the path and reached for the small wrapped box he’d slipped into the basket, setting it to the side for later.

        “Papa, we have a full jug of mead in the basket,” Baelfire said with a puzzled frown.  “Why’d you send Gaz and Ruby back to the castle for more?”

        Belle reached over and ruffled his curly hair.  “Perhaps we just wanted to be alone for a moment to hear about your morning,” she caviled evasively.

        Thorrin took a bit of bread, cheese and a cluster of grapes from the basket and settled his back against a nearby plum tree, shaking his head at their antics.  Baelfire ignored the food on his plate and launched into a fascinating tale of his ride with the estate manager’s daughter.  “Mama, there was so much water and sand on the beach.  I’ve never seen so much.  And Thor let me and Grace take off our boots and walk along the shore.  Wet sand squishes between your toes, just like in that book we read last week about the man stranded on that island.”

        “Did you like her, Bae?” Belle asked, leaning back in Rumpelstiltskin’s arms.

        “She was nice,” the boy said, finally picking a piece of roasted chicken to nibble on.  “Grace said she would come back tomorrow with her papa.  I’d like to go exploring with her.  May I, mama?”

        “Of course, sweetling.”  She looked down at his rapidly emptying plate and smiled.  “Would you like to pick some fruit now that you’re done?  Or would you like Thorrin to bring you back to the castle to play?”

        After a moment to make up his mind, he decided to fill her basket with more peaches and set off with his friend.  Belle sighed happily as she watched them go.  Rumpelstiltskin pulled the box onto his lap as Belle chewed thoughtfully at her lip, her azure eyes flitting between his smile and the mysterious box.

        “Go on, dearest.  Open it.  I know your curiosity is piqued,” he murmured teasingly as his finger traced the outline of her lips.  The breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening as her gaze drifted to his lips.  He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, whispering, “You know you want to.”

        Belle took a deep breath to calm her heart as he pressed the box into her hands.  Her fingers toyed with the bright blue ribbon for only a moment before it came loose and she was able to pull the top off of the box.  Inside were a dozen or so lavishly decorated chocolates, each with a different flavor cream inside.  Her favorites.  She chose one carefully, raising it to her nose to take in the scent of chocolate, sugar and a hint of raspberries.  He watched her as she brought it to her lips and took a bite, a small moan rising up from her throat.

        Rumpelstiltskin’s eyes darkened as he watched her face soften with pleasure.  “I’d never tried anything like those before I came to Avonlea, y’know.  There was nothing so rich to be found in my village.”

        Belle pressed the other half of the chocolate to his lips, the confection slipping past his teeth as he opened to her.  Her skin tingled as her finger touched the tip of his tongue, his lips closing around her smooth flesh.  He released it with a soft pop as her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.  He’d barely managed to swallow the silken chocolate treat before her lips crashed down on his, her hands curling in the ends of his long hair as her tongue met his.

        “I love you, Rumpelstiltskin,” she breathed against his warm mouth as she broke the kiss.  “Two more weeks … I don’t know how I’ll bear it.”

        “Preferably with a chaperone,” Ruby teased as she and Gaston returned and made themselves comfortable on the tartan blanket.

        “It’s hard to contain true love, sweetling,” Gaston said, his eyes soft as he brushed a curl behind her ear.

         Belle shared a conspiratorial look with her betrothed.  Her mind whirled with possibilities.  Her friend was going to be miserable when he was forced to return to Avonlea with them.  Gaston would be deprived of the first bloom of love, mourning the loss of time he could be courting his little maid.  How could she do that to him when he’d given her so many years of friendship and loyal service?

        “Ruby, how would you like to spend the next two weeks with me in Avonlea?” she asked, convinced she’d made the right decision when the girl’s face lit up with happiness and Gaston looked at her as if she’d just handed him the moon.  “There are so many wedding preparations still, and I could use all the help I can get.”

        Gaston squeezed Ruby’s hand as he shared her delight.  It lasted all but a moment before her eyes became troubled.  “I’ll have to ask Granny, though.  What if she says no?”

        Rumpelstiltskin poured a cup of mead for his beloved and arched a brow.  “Then we’ll just have to persuade her, won’t we?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next week is the wedding!! I’m so excited!! One more week and the wait will be over. Squeeeee! So hope you enjoyed the update, my darlings. See you next week :D


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

**Two Weeks later** **…**

 

        Avonlea was abuzz in anticipation for their princess’s impeding marriage to the Earl of Dunsmore.  The castle was festooned with white roses – the garden had been emptied of the prized blooms – and white satin banners, the most delicious smells permeated the corridors as they wafted up from the kitchens, and there were more guests milling through the palace than the spinner had ever seen before in one place.  Even the larger market towns he’d visited to sell his wares hadn’t boasted such a crowd.  Though his wedding day was less than twenty-four hours away, Rumpelstiltskin was miserable.

        The last two weeks had been a whirlwind of activity, and the time he was able to spend with his beloved had been a cruel jest.  With the last of the preparations in full swing, he was lucky if he saw her at dinner and bedtime.  She still slept with him nightly, curling into his side and slipping quickly into slumber.  Sometimes, she would fall asleep in the middle of a sentence.  Considering before they had spent nearly every waking moment together, being apart from her only increased his natural anxiety.  He longed to go back to Dunsmore castle, to the quiet languid days in the orchard or the garden, the village or the beach, and just be with her to laugh and to love as they were meant to be.

        His Belle had been thrilled with his plans to open a shop in the village, seeing for herself how it would benefit the town as well as give him something to occupy his free time.  Jefferson had already placed an order with a craftsman for five new spinning wheels and three looms.  When they returned to Dunsmore, they would begin searching for men and women to fill the roles of apprentices to learn the craft from Rumpelstiltskin.  The estate manager had endeared himself to the spinner, a friendship blooming between them as they’d worked together.  They’d found they had a lot in common, most of all that they’d both been single fathers.  It didn’t matter that Milah had been with Rumpelstiltskin until he’d met Belle, he’d been raising Baelfire by himself.  Jefferson would be arriving with Grace in the morning, refusing to stay in the palace overnight.  He’d felt the palace would be overcrowded with nobles from neighboring kingdoms come to celebrate the princess’s nuptials.

        Rumpelstiltskin found himself in the grand ballroom where their reception would be held, shaking his head at the extravagant decorations.  Large round tables littered the edges of the room, each covered with a pristine white lace tablecloth, a centerpiece of white and pink roses and the finest crystal and china the palace boasted.  The chandeliers had all been polished and refilled with beeswax candles, and the room sparkled with cleanliness.  He stood in the middle of the parquet floor, a frown knitting his brow as he stared down at his ankle which still sported the brace Dr. Cassel had provided for him.  Would he be able to dance with his bride tomorrow, he wondered.

        Baelfire tugged on his papa’s hand, smiling up at him.  “It’s pretty, isn’t it, papa?” he said wonderingly.  His little face fell as he noticed Rumpelstiltskin’s worried frown.  “Why you look so sad?”

        “I’m not sad, Bae.  I just … well, I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”  He ruffled his son’s hair.  “But you’re not to worry over that.  We’ve got rather a lot to do today, don’t we?”

        “Is mama coming with us to the village?”

        “No, son.  She and your auntie Lyssa have other tasks to see to today.  It’s just you and me,” he said, a fond smile for his boy lighting his face.  “It won’t be too boring … spending the day with your old papa?”

        Bae giggled.  “’Course not, papa.  I like spending time with you.”

        He led his son back out of the ballroom and into the main hall where they could make their way to the bailey where Thorrin awaited them.  “But you’d no doubt rather be riding.”  He hated to admit his boy was growing up and had so much more to consume his time since they’d come to Avonlea.  Things had been so hectic lately, he felt as if he hardly ever saw Bae, but once they took up permanent residence at Dunsmore, things would return to normal.

        “Where are we going first, papa?” Baelfire asked as he bounded into the carriage which would carry them to the village.

        “We have to visit the tailor for our final fittings for our wedding attire.”

        The boy groaned.  “I hope he doesn’t try to choke me with my cravat this time.”

        The spinner chuckled, knowing how much his son loathed trying on new clothes.  “I’ll make sure he doesn’t, and then we might be able to have a custard which you enjoy so well.”

        That seemed to lift his spirits, and he settled against the seat next to his father as they set off for the village.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Belle woke the next morning, blinking at the early morning sunlight filtering into her room.  A smile slowly curled onto her lips as she pushed herself up onto her elbows.  Today was her wedding day!  Finally!  Her fingers smoothed over the cool sheets next to her where her spinner usually lay.  Never again would she have to sleep without him.

        Last night, they’d lingered over dinner, spirits high among her family and certain members of the court.  Baelfire had sat between them, a ceaseless stream of chatter falling from his lips about how excited he was for the wedding.  They’d then convened in the Great Hall before the hearth to enjoy a glass of wine before Belle and Rumpel would have to part for the evening.  Her brother had insisted her betrothed and his son would spend the night in a room in the east wing – not far from Lucern’s own – to avoid temptation.  He wanted no ill luck to fall on his sister because she couldn’t abide by tradition.

        Rumpelstiltskin had balked, never having heard of the bride not being able to see the groom the night before the wedding, but had eventually conceded … although grudgingly.  She wondered if he’d slept better than she had.  She somehow doubted that, considering how clingy he was in his sleep.  Not that she minded.  She relished the time spent in his arms and the bliss she experienced being able to sleep so close to him.

        Lyssa burst through the door, her lovely face alight with joy.  Bethany followed behind her with Belle’s morning tea tray.  “Oh grand!  You’re already up,” her sister in law chirped happily.

        Belle dragged herself out of bed and pulled on her dressing robe, her gaze flickering to her wedding gown draped to the dressmaker’s dummy next to the full length mirror.  “Have you seen my Rumpel this morning?”

        “Actually, yes,” the princess said as she settled onto the settee.  “He was in the kitchens when we went to fetch your tea.  Puir man,” she tsked.  “Didn’t look as if he’d slept a wink.  Baelfire, however, was in good spirits.  The little lamb can’t wait to stand up with his father this afternoon with the rings.”

        Belle reached for a slice of warm crusty bread and a link of sausage, hoping a bit of breakfast would help to settle her nervous stomach.  Her heart went out to her love.  It wasn’t fair.  He needed her and she couldn’t be with him.

        Lyssa reached over and squeezed Belle’s hand, sensing her inner turmoil.  “Don’t fret, darling.  You’ll be with him soon enough.”

        Belle chuckled.  “It won’t be soon enough for me.”

        She didn’t have long to dwell on it, however, nor was she able to linger over her tea.  Her bedchamber became a hive of activity as footmen began carrying buckets of water in to fill her tub.  The maids would scrub her raw and begin preparations to help her dress.  Hopefully, she would calm and the time would pass swiftly.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to quiet his nervous tension as he leaned back against the cool marble of the bath.  Bae splashed nearby, playing with his little wooden boats as Vasha washed his hair.

        “You look like hell, spinner,” the prince said as he slipped into the pool and beckoned Alicia to him.  “You should be brimming with joy that the day has finally arrived.”

        Rum offered him a wan smile.  “I am … truly.”

        “But?” Lucern asked, hearing the hesitancy in the earl’s voice.

        “I didn’t sleep well, my stomach feels like I swallowed a swarm of bees, and I’m afraid I’m going to pass out the moment I step foot in the church,” he groaned, all his fears spilling out.

        Gaston hissed as he slid into the pool, the water much hotter than usual as per Rumpelstiltskin’s request.  “Yeah, and Lucern threw up three times before he made it to the alter the day of his wedding.  He was terrified Lyssa was going to come to her senses and run away.”

        Lucern shrugged, sending Bae’s boat gliding back in his direction.  “I also had a guard posted at her door the night before.”

        “Did she not want tae marry you?” he asked, shock making his brogue thick.  Anyone could see the passion which existed between the prince and his fiery wife.

        Gaston sighed in contentment as Mara came to scrub his back.  She frowned petulantly, her favorite knight having abandoned their liaison since he’d fallen so deeply in love with the little maid visiting from Dunsmore castle.  But she cared for him enough not to begrudge him his happiness.  What was it about this kingdom?  It seemed as if no one gave a wit for    nobles marrying commoners.

        “We had a rather unconventional courtship,” Lucern admitted.  “I knew she loved me, but … the knowledge didn’t give me a moment’s peace until the cleric pronounced us man and wife and my ring was resting on her finger.”

        Baelfire climbed from the pool and stood still while Vasha wrapped him in a fluffy towel.  “But, papa, mama wouldn’t run away from you.  She promised she’d never leave us.”

        Leave it to his son to see such matters in black and white.  “That’s right, Bae, and mama never breaks her promises.”  He pulled himself out of the pool and reached for a towel, letting one of the girls lead him to one of the massage tables.  Now if he could just rid himself of his nerves and relax.  Four more hours and Belle would right and truly be his before the eyes of the gods.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Oh, don’t you look beautiful.  Both of you,” the king breathed as he paused in the doorway of Belle’s bedchamber, Bethany having invited him in.  “I’ve been so blessed to have two such lovely daughters … one of my blood and one of my heart.”

        Lyssa beckoned him forward, meeting him halfway to embrace him warmly.  “Papa, you’re such a charmer.”  She kissed his ruddy cheek and stepped back with a smile, glancing briefly at Belle.  “I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes.  Merrick says the carriages are waiting to take us to the church, so I will see you downstairs.”

        Her sister in law was barely out of the door before Belle was enveloped in her father’s arms, uncaring if her dress became wrinkled or not. 

        “My precious daughter,” he choked, his voice heavy with emotion.  “How I will miss you.”

        “You act as though I’m moving to the other end of the world when I will be less than a half day’s ride from you by carriage,” she scoffed gently.

        He cast her a watery smile.  “I think perhaps every father feels this way when his daughter chooses to marry, but Rumpelstiltskin is a good man and I’m glad he makes you so happy.  I want … I want you to be happy like I was with your mother.”

        “Oh, papa,” she breathed, her eyes filling with tears.  “I am.”

        He lowered his gaze to hide the unshed tears in his own eyes and shifted uncomfortably, his hands playing over the velvet box in his hands.  “I … uh … I thought you might like to wear this today.  It was Colette’s.  She wore it the day she and I married.”

        Belle took the case from her father’s hands and carefully lifted the lid to reveal a golden comb inlaid with aquamarines almost the same color as her eyes.  She wondered if she would be able to remove the one already in her hair and replace it with her father’s gift without damaging the elegant coiffure Bethany had arranged.  With careful fingers, he nestled it among her upswept curls, removing the other in the process.

        “Colette would be so proud of you, daughter.”

        Belle gave herself a last once over in the mirror, studying her reflection with a critical eye.  Her dark chestnut tresses were piled at her crown, several left to frame her lovely face.  She’d forgone her tiara.  She would be Rumpelstiltskin’s countess before the end of the day, theA single strand of pearls adorned her neck – a gift from her papa on her sixteenth birthday – her alabaster shoulders bare.  The scalloped neckline of her bodice clung to her upper arms, stretching over her bosom in a vision of white satin and glittering golden lace. It fitted tightly to her waist where it flared out in a cloud of chiffon, her short heeled satin slippers peeking from beneath.

        “I hope Rumpel likes my dress,” she said softly, biting her lower lip in uncertainty. 

        Maurice offered his arm, their time at an end.  He needed to see her to the church.  “I promise, my girl … he won’t even notice once he sees your lovely smile as you walk down that aisle.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin groaned and let the curtain fall as he pressed his back against the wall, sucking in a deep breath to ward off the nervous fluttering in his belly.  The church was brimming with guests, some having to stand at the back when the pews had become filled.  It was nowhere near the amount which would flock to the palace for the reception, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been to gatherings with just as many in attendance since he’d come to Avonlea, but this was a bit different.  In just a few moments, he’d be standing in the front of that church with all eyes upon him, staring at him, judging him …

        Something was pressed into his hands and he looked down to find a small flask.  He came back to himself, his gaze flickering to his friend who wore a sympathetic smile for his plight.  “What –“

        “Have a nip, Rum.  It’ll help calm the nerves,” Jefferson said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his fine leather trousers.  He’d been a bit surprised when the earl had asked him to stand up with him, their friendship still so new.  Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t felt close enough to the prince quite yet to ask him, and the knights would all be on duty with so many guests in attendance.  He’d felt a kinship with Jefferson, or so he’d said.

        “I shouldn’t,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered with a wry grin as he tilted the flask to his lips and took a long draw, the whiskey burning his throat.  It took a moment for the amber liquid to course its way through his body, but he felt some of the fiery tension leave his stiff muscles.  “Thanks for that, Jeff.”

        “Don’t worry, my friend.  Once you see Belle start down that aisle towards you, you won’t be thinking of anything but her.”  Jefferson smiled reassuringly as he took up a position at the threshold to the little room.  They hadn’t much longer to wait, and soon he was leading the earl to his position before the altar, music swelling from the organ to cue the guests to quiet.

        Jefferson stood at Rumpelstiltskin’s side, lending his support and friendship, smiling brightly as the doors at the rear of the church opened and his daughter – dressed in a pale blue gown, a golden sash tied about her waist – stepped out onto the aisle, carrying a basket of white rose petals.  She smiled at all the guests as she sprinkled the fragrant petals onto the carpeted runner and made her way to the front of the church.  She was followed by Baelfire, carrying a small white pillow, the rings tied to it with golden ribbons.

        Lucern – sitting on the front row with Gaston and Thorrin – turned to watch his own wife stride slowly down the aisle, his eyes soft and warm as he took her in.  She was dressed much like Grace in pale blue and gold, though her bodice was filled with her voluptuous curves.

        Rumpelstiltskin smiled down at his son as the boy came to stand beside him, both of them craning their necks a bit to see Belle as she took her father’s arm and stepped onto the aisle.  He was mesmerized by her beauty, touched to his very core by this petite woman who was such a driving force in his life.  He felt himself warm as her eyes met his, and he was lost, the cold numbness of his separation from her over the past weeks leaving him.  She was a vision, his angel, his Belle, and tears burned at his eyes as she climbed the few short steps to the altar with her father and he placed her hand in his.  Tears brightened her eyes as she clasped his hand tightly, his name a silent plea on her lips.

        The cleric – Father Bartholomew – help up his hands for silence, and the music ended in a cacophony of tinkling notes.  “Who gives this woman to this man to be joined in holy matrimony?” he asked.

        “I do,” Maurice boomed, making sure each and every guest in the church could hear the approval in his voice as he gave his daughter into the spinner’s keeping.

        Lyssa relieved Belle of her bouquet as the king moved down the steps to sit beside Lucern in the front pew.  Belle barely noticed, lost in the warmth of her groom’s soft gaze.  The cleric placed his hand atop the couple’s clasped hands and chanted a prayer, asking the gods to bless them.

        Once more he raised his hands, this time in welcome.  “Friends, family, we are gathered here today in the sight of the gods to celebrate the joining of these two souls.  Belle, High Princess of Avonlea and Rumpelstiltskin, Earl of Dunsmore, marriage is the most important of all relationships.  It should be entered into reverently, thoughtfully and with full understanding of its sacred nature.  Your marriage must stand by the strength of your love and the power of faith in each other and in the gods.  Just as two threads woven in opposite directions form a beautiful tapestry, so to your two lives when merged together will make a beautiful marriage.  Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have chosen to speak their own vows.”

        Father Bartholomew took a step back and bowed to the princess, giving her leave to begin when she was ready.  Belle gravitated a step closer, unable to help herself.  He drew her in with his liquid ocher eyes and loving smile.  “My Rumpel, I don’t even know where to begin,” she began, her voice wavering slightly with emotion.  “When I stepped into that tavern so many months ago … well, I certainly never expected to find love.  Especially one so profound.”  She stopped, drawing in a ragged breath as she chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip.  “I knew the moment I saw you, I had to know you.  Then later, I knew I would love you.  No one has ever touched me the way you have, Rumpelstiltskin.  You … both you and Baelfire.” She looked down at their precious son with love in her eyes.  “You fill a place in my heart I didn’t even know was empty.  I was proud to give you my heart and now I’m even happier to join my life with yours, to be at your side … forever.  I love you so much.”

        Tears gathered in his eyes to spill over his lashes, overwhelmed by the words pouring forth from her heart.  He lifted her hand, his lips brushing reverently over her knuckles.  “Belle … I love you too.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve always tried to be a good man.  I think I succeeded in being a good father to Baelfire, but … there was so much misery, so much darkness … until you.  You bring me a joy and fulfillment I have never known.  You make me stronger, my love.  You’ve shown me it’s possible for someone to love me.” He squeezed her hand as he reached down with his free one to pull his son closer to them so that he might share in the ceremony.  “You, Baelfire and I … together we are whole.”

        Belle bit her lip, hard as she choked back a sob, tears spilling over her flushed cheeks.  She knelt at Bae’s side and wrapped her arm about his waist, her smile radiant.  “Yes,” she said, kissing his little cheek.  “Together.”

        As she rose once more, Bae tucked the pillow with the rings beneath his arm and took his mother’s hand, then his father’s and brought them together as they gazed down at him quizzically.  “Mama, why are you crying?” he whispered as she leaned over to hear him.  “I thought you were happy.”

        “I am, my darling.  These are happy tears.”

        He looked up at his father who nodded as he brushed at his own wet eyes.  The boy scrunched up his face, still a bit confused.  Finally, he shook his head.  “Girls are strange, papa.”

        The cleric bit back a laugh, and covered it by clearing his throat.  “Shall we continue?”  Rumpel and Belle shared a look as they both turned towards Father Bartholomew – Baelfire tucked between them – and nodded.  The father smiled indulgently at the little family and began again.  “Belle, do you take Rumpelstiltskin to be your husband?”

        She turned back to her groom and took a deep stuttering breath, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs.  “I do.”

        “Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect him, forsaking all others and holding only unto him forevermore?”

        “I do.”

        The cleric’s gaze swung to the groom.  “Rumpelstiltskin, do you take Belle to be your wife?” he asked.

        “I-I do,” the spinner stammered, nodding fervently to make sure there was no mistaking his answer.

        “Do you promise to love, honor, cherish and protect her, forsaking all others and holding only unto her forevermore?”

        Rumpelstiltskin beamed at his bride, his smile so wide his face ached with the stretch of muscle and flesh.  “Oh, yes … er … I do!”

        There was murmuring among the guests, and the king looked as if he were ready to weep with the beauty of his daughter’s union.  Father Bartholomew nodded at Baelfire to step forward with the rings.  “The ring is a symbol of the unbroken circle of love.  Love freely given has no beginning and no end.”  He pulled the rings one by one from the ribbons and handed them to the bride and groom.  “May these rings always remind you of the vows you have taken.”

        Belle rubbed the ring reverently with her thumb.  It had belonged to her grandfather and had been tucked away in her mother’s jewelry box for years.  The simple golden band inlaid with runes had been perfect for her sweet spinner, she’d thought.  Her grandmother’s ring – a smaller version of her grandfather’s – would rest upon her own finger.  She was so concentrated on the ring clasped between her fingers, she nearly missed her cue.

        “I Belle, take thee, Rumpelstiltskin to be my husband.  To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in joy and sorrow, and I promise my love to you.  With this ring, I pledge thee my troth and take you for my husband, for as long as we both shall live.”  She slid the ring slowly onto his finger, the adjustments the jeweler had made assuring a perfect fit.

        He looked down at the heavy golden band on his finger, the weight foreign.  When he’d married Milah – being a poor peasant – he hadn’t been able to buy even a cheap token for her to wear on her finger.  If he _had_ been able to procure such a thing for her, she’d have likely not thought it good enough.  This ring – so sentimentally special to his Belle – could have been made of tin and it would still be the most priceless material object he owned simply because she had given it to him.

        Jefferson nudged him in the back when the cleric gave Rumpelstiltskin his cue.  Bae pulled on his papa’s jacket, and Belle let out a little giggle.  “Sorry,” the groom said, flushing bright pink beneath the light tanned tone of his skin.  “I Rumpelstiltskin, take thee, Belle to be my wife.  To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in joy and sorrow, and I promise my love to you.  With this ring, I pledge thee my troth and take you for my wife, for as long as we both shall live.”  His entire body trembled with joy as her ring slid into place on her finger, his lips pressing a kiss to her knuckle above the gleaming gold.

        The cleric raised his hands to the congregation, a smile of approval on his weathered face.  “What the gods have joined together, let no man put asunder.  By the power vested in me by the kingdom of Avonlea and the blessings of the gods, I now pronounce you husband and wife.  You may now kiss the –“

        Father Bartholomew’s voice trailed away into nothing as Belle threw her arms about her husband and brought her lips to his.  It was difficult to kiss him when she couldn’t seem to stop grinning like a loon, but she was so ecstatically happy, she couldn’t help herself.

        Rumpelstiltskin cradled his bride’s face in his hands and pressed his brows to hers, breathing a sigh of relief.  “You’re really mine now,” he murmured, basking in the glow of their love.  “My beautiful wife.”

        She nuzzled his nose with hers, her fingers twisting in the ends of his hair.  “Finally!” she giggled.  “And the sooner we’re done with the reception, the sooner we can begin our lives together.  Shall we go home?”

        The gathered guests clapped exuberantly as Rumpelstiltskin turned to face them and offered his arm to his wife.  “As you wish, my love.”  He couldn’t wait.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I totally suck! And have I mentioned just how much I hate writing weddings. I wanted this chapter to include the wedding AND the reception AND the wedding night. However, that would have made it entirely too long so I’m having to split it. So, next week will be the reception and wedding night. And a little surprise for Bae :D I hope to see you then. Thanks so much for reading!!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Wedding night! This chapter contains smut :D So … yeah, consider this a warning if you don’t want to read it! To those who do … happy reading!

 

        “If I have to greet and bow to one more of those snobby sycophants –“

        Belle turned and pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek as they stood in the receiving line just inside the ballroom.  “You’re doing wonderfully, my love.  And really, it shouldn’t be much longer before dinner is announced and we can all adjourn to the high table.”

        “Mama, my feet hurt,” Baelfire complained from where he stood between his mother and the prince.  “And I’m hungry.”

        “I’m with you, little man,” Lucern sympathized, patting the boy on the shoulder.  “But it is just something we must endure for the pomp and ceremony expected of us.”

        “How come grandpa doesn’t have to stand here in line with us, unca Luc?”

        Belle greeted another lady of the court with a forced smile before turning her attention to her son.  “Because papa is preparing something very special for you, my darling boy.”

        Rumpelstiltskin brightened considerably as the master spinner – employed by the king – came through the line and bowed respectfully.  Belle smiled indulgently, seeing her husband had finally been congratulated by someone with which he’d forged a friendship.  The downside was that Rum could converse with the man for hours on end without ever tiring.  She supposed she could meet and greet in his stead for a bit.

        Belle was rather relieved when a footman cut into line.  “Highness, his majesty requests you join him in his study now,” he said, relaying the message and leaving with a respectful bow.

        Lyssa and Lucern remained in the receiving line to welcome everyone in Belle’s stead as she led her husband and son out of the ballroom and one floor up to her papa’s study.  “There is a couple Master Brathan said who would like to relocate to Dunsmore so the woman can be closer to her mother.  They’re both experienced spinners and the young man is an accomplished weaver, Belle.  I think they’d do nicely to get our shop up and running,” Rumpelstiltskin said excitedly.

        “That’s wonderful, my darling,” she said, happy to see him so looking forward to adding a new opportunity to their village.  Baelfire had already expressed an interest in helping his papa and her husband was eager to teach him the trade.  Perhaps if he didn’t decide to become a knight, he would one day want to run the shop himself.

        The king rose from behind his formidable desk, beckoning the three into the room after calling for them to enter.  Belle hurried across the room to embrace him, her heels making not a sound against the thick Agrabahan carpet.  “I’m sorry I haven’t finished before now, m’girl, but I wanted to make sure the document was signed, sealed and filed away in the vault today.  We just need your husband’s signature … and yours of course.”

        Belle stepped out of his arms and lifted the contract from the center of his desk, her eyes rapidly sweeping over the parchment and taking in each word.  “It’s perfect.  Thank you so much, papa,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.  She picked up the quill and added her name to it.

        “Well, I won’t keep you, sweetheart.  I think it’s time I put in an appearance.  Dinner should be served before long.”  He ruffled Baelfire’s hair as he left, promising to share a piece of treacle fudge with him later.

        “Belle?  What is it, dearest?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, his hand settling on her hip as he tried to read the king’s looping scrawl over his wife’s shoulder.

        “Is that my surprise, mama?” Bae asked, not looking at all impressed with the piece of parchment in his mother’s hands.

        She nodded and handed the document to her husband for his perusal.  “It is indeed.  It’s a certificate of adoption,” she said solemnly, her gaze swinging between Rumpel and Bae.  “I know how worried you’ve been lately … about me leaving you … and I just wanted to put your mind at ease, Bae.”

        “Y-You want to adopt him?” Rumpelstiltskin stammered, stunned.

        “We just need your signature, darling … if you agree, that is.”  She gave him a pointed look.  Milah was still out there, and despite the contract she’d signed, waiving her rights to the boy, neither of them would put it past her to try to take Bae from them at some point in the future.  “I don’t want to just be his step mother.  I want to be his mother in truth.”

        Baelfire threw his arms about her waist and squeezed with all the strength he possessed.  “I love you, m-mama!” he said, his little voice wavering with emotion.

        Belle pressed a kiss to his crown.  “And I love you, my precious boy.”

        Rumpelstiltskin dipped a quill into the inkpot and penned his name to the document.  “I think it’s a splendid idea, my love,” he murmured, wrapping his arms about his wife and son.

        “Papa, you’re squishing me,” Bae said, squirming to get free.  “Can we have cake now?”

        Belle snorted.  “Yes, darling, I suppose we can.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Baelfire abandoned his parents when they all returned to the ballroom, in favor of sitting next to his grandfather.  A long table had been set up for the royal family and smaller round tables littered the edges of the dance floor for the rest of their guests.  Rumpelstiltskin was a bit crestfallen to have his son choose to sit with the king instead of his parents, however.  But he knew how much his boy loved his new grandfather and when they departed for Dunsmore the next morning, it would be a while before they could spend time together again.

        “Let him have his fun, Rum.  Our son is going to miss his grandpa when we return to Dunsmore,” Belle said soothingly as she held a piece of succulent lamb to his lips.  He accepted her offering, nipping gently at her fingertips, causing her to blush as heat pooled in her belly.

        “He’s growing up too fast,” he grumbled, ignoring the minstrels working their way through the ballroom to entertain their guests.  He was far too besotted with his bride to see much of what was going on around him.  He speared a piece of potato – perfectly roasted with rosemary and thyme – onto the end of his fork and fed it to her.

        Belle pushed their plates aside as two footmen wheeled a four-tiered wedding cake into the room on a cart.  Her skirts made a gentle rustling sound as she rose and took her husband’s arm, allowing him to lead her over to the confection.  She was surprised he wasn’t drooling.  Sweets were definitely one of his weaknesses.

        “Here, dear heart,” Rumpelstiltskin said, handing her the pastry knife.  “Why don’t you go first.”

        Belle chuckled as she cut into the cake and brought a small bite up to his lips.  “May our lives always be as rich as this cake.”

        He chewed slowly, savoring the delicate flavor before cutting a small bite for her, bringing it up to her mouth.  He shivered as her lips closed over his fingers, accepting the cake from him.  “And may our love always be as sweet as your lips.”  His arm slid about her waist, pulling her closer as he pressed his brow to hers, giving her a moment to enjoy her treat before capturing her mouth with his.

        “You’ve been reading poetry again, haven’t you, husband?” she teased as she leaned into him.

        “Perhaps I find it soothing and it helps me sleep.”

        Her fingers curled into the ends of his soft hair, tugging gently as she knew he liked.  “And I think perhaps you just have a romantic heart.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin bowed low to his precious bride, holding out his hand to her.  “Will you honor me with a dance, my beauty?” he asked, handing his cane to a waiting footman.

        Belle curtsied to him and let her fingers slide across his warm palm.  “Are you sure, Rum?” she asked, her eyes wide with worry.  “Your ankle –“

        “Will be fine,” he assured her.  “I believe I can manage a dance or two with my lovely wife.”

        She beamed as he led her out onto the polished parquet floor and swept her up into his arms.  The soft notes from the small orchestra filled the room barely registered on her.  She was too stunned as he led into the dance with his nearly perfect footwork.  “Rum, when … how?” she asked in an awestruck tone.

        “Gaston and Lucern taught me the steps this week.  Lyssa helped too,” he admitted sheepishly.  “I didn’t want to disappoint you by not knowing how to dance.”

        Belle curled her hand over his nape and sighed into his shoulder.  “You never cease to amaze me, Rumpelstiltskin.”  She didn’t notice when others joined them on the dance floor.  Ruby and Gaston, Jefferson and his daughter, Lucern and Lyssa as well as members of the court.  today was about her husband and she was lost in his eyes, cherished in his arms, happier than she’d ever been.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        It wasn’t until the bride was led away to the Rose suite that the nerves began to kick in.  Lyssa prattled away, her soft accented voice filled with mirth as she explained it was only right for the newlyweds to have the suite in the south wing to ensure their privacy.  It had been Colette’s sanctuary … where she would go to be alone when she’d needed time away from her husband after a spat.  It was one of Belle’s favorite rooms in the entire palace.

        The suite was open on two sides with columned verandas.  One side contained comfortable seating, plants and flowering shrubs and on the other was a large bathing pool.  Maurice had commissioned this tower room for Colette’s use, thinking the view of the sea and the beach below would help to calm his lady wife’s temper.  Dominating the room was an immense four poster bed, draped in damask silks, gauzy curtains and a rich velvet duvet, pillows in a myriad of sizes piled along the headboard.  Belle blushed as she stepped into the room, her eyes landing on that bed, thoughts of what she’d be doing there soon filling her head.

        Her eyes misted as she scanned the numerous bookcases lining the walls with her mother’s favorite tomes, and footmen scurried about adding the finishing touches which would assure her comfort for the evening.  She smiled as she moved over to the little sitting area next to the hearth, a crackling fire burning brightly within. 

        The wedding feast would go on for days, but Belle was thankful she and her little family wouldn’t have to stay for the duration.  She was looking forward to returning to Dunsmore on the morrow.  She took a seat on the settee as Lyssa and Ruby followed her into the room.  they were joined shortly thereafter by Mrs. Potts who set a tea service on the small coffee table next to a slaver of sweetmeats and fruit and a bottle of chilled wine.

        “Drink up, m’dear,” the older woman said as she poured tea into a cup for the princess.  “It will help relax you.  I suspect you have little over an hour until your husband joins you.”

        “Agatha, why do you seem so nervous?” Belle asked, her curiosity at its peak.  Normally, the woman was unflappable.

        Ruby giggled as she went to the vanity and retrieved Belle’s hairbrush, carrying it back with her to the sitting area.  “I suspect you’re about to get … _the talk_ ,” Ruby whispered in an ominous tone as she began to pull the pins and jeweled comb from Belle’s hair.

        The princess arched a brow.  “The talk?” she queried.  “Agatha Potts, are you blushing?”

        “Never you mind, dear girl,” she grumbled.  “And you won’t be receiving the talk until Ruby makes herself scarce.”

        Ruby shot the woman a crestfallen look.  “Why do I have to leave?  I’m of a marriageable age.  I should be able to stay and hear what you have to say.”

        “Because it’s not you who’s anticipating her wedding night.  Besides, my sister would skin me alive if I deprived her of the pleasure of telling you herself,” Mrs. Potts said, wringing her hands.  She was nearly as nervous as Belle.

        “Granny wouldn’t mind … much,” Ruby insisted, pulling the brush through Belle’s hair until it shone in the soft glow of the candles.

        “Ruby … no.”

        “Fine.  You all act as if I’m some innocent child whose fragile mind would break with the knowledge of sex.!”

        Belle nearly choked on her tea while Lyssa burst out laughing and Mrs. Potts looked as if she’d swallowed lemons.

        Before she could be scolded again, Ruby kissed Belle on the cheek and wished her luck.  “I suppose I’ll go.  No need to stay where I’m not wanted.” She smirked at her great aunt.  “Perhaps Gaz is still in the ballroom and we can share another piece of cake.  See you tomorrow, m’lady.”

        “That girl!” Mrs. Potts blustered.  “She’s going to find herself in trouble one of these days.”

        Belle shook her head.  “No, I don’t think so.  As taken as Gaz is with her, I don’t think it will be long before they too marry.”

        “They’re so lovely together,” Lyssa added as she snatched a strawberry from the tray and popped it in her mouth.  “Gaz is such a wonderful man.  He deserves his happiness.”

        “Aye, he does,” Mrs. Potts said, taking Belle’s empty cup and setting it aside.  “Now let’s see about getting you out of that dress.”

        Lyssa was careful with the long row of buttons on the back of the dress, the buttonhook making it easier than if she’d tried it by hand, and it was a matter of minutes before the dress pooled at her feet and Mrs. Potts was able to take it away.  “Belle, you’re trembling, darling,” Lyssa murmured as she unknotted her corset strings.  “Relax.  You know Rumpel would never hurt you.  I’ve never seen a man more caring and gentle than your spinner.”

        Her corset, stockings, petticoats and bloomers were stripped away, her shift following, all to be replaced with a scandalous negligee made entirely of virginal white lace.  _Boy, if they only knew_ , she thought with a wicked smirk teasing her lips.  It dipped very low in the back and left the tops of her breasts on display for her husband’s pleasure, only two very thin straps holding it secure at her shoulders.

        “You look lovely, my sister,” Lyssa cooed in approval.

        Belle’s eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of herself in the full length mirror.  “Oh my! You should commend yourself for procuring this for me without dying from embarrassment, Lyssa.”

        Lucern’s wife shrugged.  “I wanted to find something you could both enjoy.”

        Mrs. Potts took her charge’s hand and led her over to the hope chest resting at the foot of the bed, urging her to sit down.  “Belle … oh you don’t know how difficult it is for me to say this … you have a duty to your husband, and –“

        Belle took the woman’s hands and squeezed gently.  “Agatha, I love you.  You’ve been like a mother to me my whole life, and therefore I can’t put you through this.”

        “No, I must prepare you for what is to come.”

        “But –“

        “You have a duty to your husband,” Mrs. Potts continued, steadfast in her own duty to her charge.  She would not have her little Belle going off without the basic knowledge of what was expected of her.  “Don’t be afraid, though.”

        Lyssa stretched out on the bed behind them, bracing herself on her elbow, her chin coming to rest in her hand.  “Definitely not.  It’s more pleasure than duty, darling.  Especially if he has some skill.”  She waggled her brows.

        “Oh good heavens,” the older woman scolded. 

        “Agatha, I’ve done a fair bit of reading on the subject.  I know what to expect,” Belle said gently.  She wasn’t going to scandalize her with details of what she and Rumpel had already tried in their lusty encounters.

        “Why am I not surprised?  You always have been a little bookworm.”  She wrung her hands, her fingers twisting in her apron.  “Are you sure you don’t need me to tell you more?”

        “There’s this trick I can share with you about how to please him with your mouth … if you’re interested,” Lyssa teased, reveling in the blush staining Mrs. Potts’ cheeks.

        “Oh, you shameless child.  Whatever am I to do with you?”

        The girls couldn’t contain their giggles as the woman made her way to the door, leaving them alone with the promise of dire retribution when they least expected it.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin grumbled petulantly to himself as he shot a glare at his still mending ankle.  Every step caused him to lean heavily upon his gold handled cane, a dull, nagging wave of pain shooting through the joint with each movement.  He’d spent entirely too much time on his feet today, but he hadn’t wanted his beloved to be disappointed.  He’d loved the feeling of having his bride in his arms, the bliss coursing through his veins as he twirled her about the dance floor time and again.  Besides, if she was dancing with him, it kept her out of the arms of others who wanted the pleasure of dancing with her.  He was coming to realize he had a possessive streak buried deep within him which had been clawing its way to the surface recently.

        Good Gods!  Who had thought it a good idea to turn this tower room into their honeymoon suite, he thought with no small amount of irritation as he climbed yet another set of stairs.  Then again, his irritation could have stemmed from being apart from her too long.  His new father in law – as well as Lucern and Gaston – had insisted he give Belle time enough to change and make herself comfortable before he joined her, offering him good company and a strong tumbler of spirits while he cooled his heels.  Baelfire had begged to spend his last night in the palace with his friends, and he had to commend Lady Myerson for her patience to take on four young – and very hyper – boys for the evening.  How could he refuse when it was his son’s dearest wish?

        Now he was traversing unfamiliar corridors in search of his wife.  She was his now, bound to him before the eyes of man and with the blessings of the gods.  There was nothing standing in the way of them consummating their relationship now, and Belle had made it clear just how impatient she was by the way she’d been teasing him throughout the day.  He breathed a sigh of relief as he finally reached the ornate double doors with their intricate carvings of roses.  Should he knock?  Was she waiting for him?  It was to be _their_ chamber after all, but how was he to know what protocols he was supposed to follow?  Everything was so different in this society he’d come to live in than his previous existence.  When he’d married Milah, the feast had been nowhere near as grand as the one he’d just left, his head so buzzed with drink he’d hardly remembered his wedding night.  He’d vowed not to do the same tonight, despite his nerves.  At least his nerves stemmed from excitement rather than fear.

        A shiver rippled up his spine as he pushed open the doors and stepped into the room, taking in the soft glow of candlelight and the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.  He felt as if he’d stumbled onto an ethereal plane and all he needed was his angel to guide him into paradise.  “Belle?” he called softly, his voice hoarse with the weight of his emotions.

        A movement off to his left drew his attentions away from his perusal of their borrowed chamber.  She was a vision where she stood on the veranda bathed in the pale light of the moon, her feet bare on the cool stones, swathed in a sheer dressing gown which did little to hide her ample curves from his view.  His feet moved of their own accord, bringing him closer, gravitating towards her.

        Belle turned, holding her hand out to him, a welcome invitation for him to join her.  His fingers twined with hers as she pulled him to her side and wrapped her other arm about his waist.  “I missed you,” she confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper.  She lifted her face up to his, sighing against his lips as he bent to kiss her.  “You looked a bit forlorn when Lyssa dragged me away.”

        Rumpelstiltskin snorted.  “It’s good that you had time alone to prepare, regardless of my feelings.”  He stroked his callused fingers over her hair and smiled.  “Our son is sleeping over with Abel and two others at the Myerson’s.”

        Belle giggled.  “I’m glad he’s able to spend time with his friends before we return to Dunsmore.  He’ll miss Abel terribly, but at least he’ll have Grace.”

        “And I,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her lower lip, “shall have _you_.”  He blinked.  Where had that bit of boldness come from?  “I mean …”

        She bit her lip as her gaze riveted on his flushed cheeks.  Her hands slid beneath his lapels and curled over his shoulders as she pushed his jacket off and then draped it over the balustrade. Her lips ghosted over the sensitive flesh where his pulse beat a rapid tempo.  “You’ll always have me, my love.”

        He shivered as she continued to lavish his throat with attention, her deft little fingers quickly divesting him of his waistcoat.  This was not going at all as he’d planned.  It should be him seducing her, but she’d taken the initiative and he was slowly bending to her will, putty in her clever hands.  If he didn’t put a halt to this, he was going to embarrass himself before they ever made it to the bed.

        Rumpelstiltskin knew he was going to regret it in the morning, but threw caution to the wind and swept her up into his arms, his cane clattering against the stones as he tossed it aside.

        “Rumpel, your ankle!” she cried, wrapping her arms about his neck to better his center of balance.  “You’re going to hurt yourself, you daft man!”

        He chuckled at her scolding, bearing her to the bead and sitting down with her on his lap.  He kissed her gently and caressed her cheek with his thumb, his fingers gliding into the soft hair at her temple.  “Every twinge of pain I’ve suffered today has been worth it, dearest.  I’d walk through fire for you.”

        She leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with love, but it still pained her that he’d had to suffer.  “I know you would, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.  You’re still healing, and Dr. – “

        “Every dance, every moment I stood with you by my side was worth any pain.  These were moments I will cherish for the rest of my life, Belle.”  He burrowed his nose in the crook of her neck as his long spinner’s fingers squeezed her hip.  “If it weren’t for you and your care, it wouldn’t have been possible.”

        Her cerulean eyes grew soft, and moisture gathered at the corners.  “I love you.  I’ll always care for you when you’re hurt,” she murmured softly, carding her fingers through his silky hair.  “Though I don’t know if my heart could bear another harrowing incident as this last one.”

        Rumpelstiltskin lifted his head and grinned sheepishly.  “That was a freak accident, but I will endeavor to be more careful.”

        She squirmed upon his lap as his hand ghosted along her side, the touch meant to soothe but enflamed instead.  “I know you will,” she whispered, closing the distance between them to catch his lower lip between her own.  He held himself back, his lips leaving soft sipping kisses on her rosebud mouth, refusing to deepen and give her what she wanted so desperately.  She frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

        He shook his head.  “Nothing,” he lied, his hand tugging at the tie to her dressing robe, pulling it open to reveal the lace beneath.

        “I don’t believe you.”

        “Of course you don’t.”

        “Tell me,” she insisted as she pulled the snowy white cravat from about his throat.  “I know you, my Rumpel.  I can tell when something is troubling you.”

        He sighed, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.  “The bride isn’t the only one to experience wedding night jitters, dearest.”  A smirk curled the left corner of his lips.  “Even with all the ‘practice’ – I believe you like to call it – that we’ve done leading up to this moment.”

        “Yes, but this time … this time I will be able to see _all_ of you.  Including the bits you’ve insisted on hiding from me.”  Her fingers worked the row of buttons on his shirt as she met his gaze, unable to miss the wince which crawled over his features.

        “What if you don’t like what you see?” he asked, his voice strained.

        She pushed the silk shirt from his shoulders and arched a dubious brow at him, running her hands over his bare chest.  “You’re beautiful, Rumpelstiltskin … and you’re _mine_ ,” she fairly growled.  “I love every part of you.”  She pressed her lips to his ear, her warm breath making him shiver as she whispered, “Touch me.  As much as I love being your bride, now I need you to make me your wife.”

        Rumpelstiltskin stared at her, awestruck as a surge of desire sent his blood racing.  The heat of the room seemed amplified on his flesh, his heart sped and his skin felt tight as if his meager body couldn’t adequately contain what he felt for her.  It was primal and pure, all reservations obliterated from his mind, only the need to please her, to take her and make her his uppermost in his thoughts.  His eyes darkened to the color of rich ocher and she smiled triumphantly, knowing she’d won.  The evidence of her victory was written clearly on her lovely face as she shrugged out of her robe, the silk pooling about her waist.

        He tossed the garment to the floor and moved his precious treasure to lie back against the pillows, assuring her comfort.  His cock twitched, and he silently cursed the confining leather trousers he wore, but he was too impatient to see to their removal just yet.  He dipped his head, claiming her lips hungrily, nipping gently until she opened for him and allowed his tongue to thrust into her sweet mouth.  Her tongue darted out to meet his, stroking sensuously against his own, her flavor sweeter than anything he’d ever known and it only made him want her more.

        He pressed closer, needing to feel her body flush with his, only to find himself surprised when her hands braced against his chest to gently push him back.  Had he done something wrong? Gone to fast? Displeased her in some way.  “Rum, your boots … take them off,” she breathed.

        The spinner glared down at the boot on his right foot and its many straps and buckles, hating it for the first time since he’d received it.  He sat up on the side of the bed, grumbling and cursing the contraption under his breath as he yanked and pulled at the brace, relieved when it finally came free and hit the rug with a loud thump.  It was easy to pull his boots off then and send them to join it on the floor.  A low rumble of pleasure rose up in his chest as he turned to find his wife laid out before him, one arm thrown above her head in abandon.

        He drank in the sight of him, her lace gown clinging seductively to her curves, her pale flesh glowing in the candlelight, her chest flushed a becoming shade of pink due to her arousal.  She was a banquet for his hungry gaze and he wasted no time moving to her side.  He wanted to take things slowly, to draw out her pleasure, to make this an experience she’d look back on with fondness, but the knowledge that he was going to inevitably hurt her nagged at his mind.  It wouldn’t let go.

        Belle’s fingers curled into his hair, tugging his head down to bring his lips to hers.  She could feel his fear, a palpable ugly entity between them, and it left her disconcerted.  Now was not the time for reservations or self-loathing brought on by years of abuse.  Not now; not this night.  Tonight he belonged to her and she would allow _nothing_ to come between them. 

        Her hand kneaded his shoulder and trailed down his arm, mapping the contour of his warm skin before she grasped his wrist and drew his arm to wrap about her waist.  He gasped as his fingers came in contact with her back – bared by her revealing gown – and he pulled back to meet her gaze.  She smiled coyly and opened for him again as his lips crashed down on hers with more fervor.  There was her Rumpel, the man she loved, the spinner who could weave his desires to match her own with the delicate threads of his passion.

        He pulled her closer, her breasts pressing delightfully against his chest as his lips trailed a hot path to her ear.  He reveled in her responses, her little breathy moans, the scratch of her nails on his bare skin; each one fueled his ever-growing desire.  He moved with exquisite slowness, every touch, every kiss a sweet torture until she couldn’t bear anymore.

        Belle cast him a hot look as she pushed against his shoulders, coaxing him to lie on his back.  Her eyes were filled with heat and raw determination as she followed, refusing to put too much distance between them.  She couldn’t bear it any longer, the slow sweep of his hands or the gentle press of his lips.  She needed more.  She lifted the lace gown away from her legs and climbed atop him, coming to settle on the evidence of his desire which was straining – what had to be painfully – against his tight leather trousers.

        Her hands splayed over his chest and she pressed a searing kiss to his mouth as his lips parted on a gasp, her name a soft prayer on his tongue.  He bucked against her, nearly unseating her as he writhed beneath her touch.  She moaned, grinding herself down on his arousal, need flooding her entire body.  Only the need for air had her breaking their kiss, and she sat back to see the evidence of her handiwork.  Rumpelstiltskin looked desperate, wrecked beyond anything she’d ever seen, his hands grasping tightly against her hips.

        “Belle … Belle, please …”

        Her nails scraped over his flat male nipples and he whimpered, his back arching in pleasure, but she didn’t stop there, continuing on over his ribs and the taut plane of his belly.  “Shh, my darling husband.  Just let me touch you,” she purred, leaning over him to press hot openmouthed kisses around his navel.

        He cursed softly, his eyes widening as her teeth bit down gently on his hot flesh above the waistband of his breeches.  “Are you trying to kill me?!”

        She giggled, tugging on the soft leather with her teeth until the first button released with a muted pop.  “You tease me until I feel my bones melt into a puddle whenever you please.”  She lifted her gaze to his, something dark and primal within the depths of her eyes.  “Now it’s my turn.”

        Another button popped free and she nuzzled her nose against the skin she’d revealed.  His breath was heavy, coming in sharp pants, his hips bucking once more.  She gently caressed his belly in soothing circles, trying to calm him.  He’d never let her do this before and she felt a rush of power claim her.  It was her touch sending him to such a mindless state of madness and it increased her own desire tenfold.  She made quick work of the remaining buttons and pulled the confining leather from his hips, sliding his trousers over his well-defined thighs and off of him completely to join his boots on the floor.

        A rosy blush climbed her neck to settle in her cheeks as she sat back to look at him, completely bare and vulnerable beneath her scorching gaze.  She reached out her hand before hesitating and drawing back.  “M-May I … um … may I touch you there, husband?”

        His nostrils flared and his eyes widened with a panicked gleam.  “Not if you want this evening to go any further.”

        Belle’s narrow gaze returned to that one part of his anatomy she’d yet to see, biting her lip as she studied him.  “Does it hurt?” she asked worriedly as he twitched beneath her gaze, his long, thick shaft red and straining, a bead of moisture at his tip.

        Rumpelstiltskin groaned and shook his head.  “Not in the way you’re thinking, dearest,” he admitted wryly.

        She bit her lip in consternation, her hands idly rubbing over the tops of his thighs.  “But I want to touch you,” she whined in a petulant tone.  “I’ve been waiting forever, Rum.  Please?”

        “Oh, Gods!” he squeaked.  He gnashed his teeth as he nodded fervently.  How could he deny her when she’d been so open and giving with her own body?  Better yet, how was he to bear it?

        Her cool, slim fingers wrapped around his cock and he cried out, nearly tossing her off of his lap as he thrust into her hand.  She immediately removed her hand and shot him a terrified look.  “Did I hurt you?!”

        “N-NO!” he keened.  “No, love, it felt good,” he said in a more even tone as his eyes slammed shut and the breath hitched in his chest.  Fire, white hot and blistering, coursed through his veins and he gripped her thighs with his long fingers, needing to ground himself to maintain his fragile control.

        She relaxed, reaching out again to take him into her hand.  She felt a little tingle of fear as she stroked him gently, her courage deserting her.  How was he ever going to fit without rending her in two?  He felt like velvet over steel, and a shiver of trepidation slithered along her spine at the thought of being impaled by him.  She knew he’d never hurt her intentionally, but with her limited experience and knowledge, she was frightened.

        Rumpelstiltskin paled as he watched her lower lip quiver.  He sat up and wrapped his arms about her, pulling her against his chest and pressing a kiss to her temple.  “What’s wrong, my Belle?  You’re trembling.”

        She wouldn’t meet his gaze, hiding her face against his throat.  “What if we … you’re so … what if we don’t fit t-together?”

        He bit his tongue – hard – to withhold the chuckle deep in his chest.  “We will, dear heart.  I promise.”  He slipped a finger beneath her chin and lifted her fearful gaze to his.  “Trust me,” he pleaded.

        Belle sat back and whipped the gown over her head, leaving herself bare to his gaze.  “I do trust you.  I’m not so naive as to think losing my maidenhead isn’t going to hurt.”

        He smiled warmly at her, his brave little wife.  “I will not cause you undue pain, Belle.  I want to bring you only pleasure.”

        She nodded and relaxed into his embrace as he drew her closer, putting her faith into him.  Bride’s jitters; that was all it was, she was certain.  She focused on his hands as they gave her hips a light squeeze and moved up and over her sides.  His thumbs gently teased the sensitive undersides of her breasts as he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, his tongue seeking out every spot which brought her pleasure.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers toying with the ends of his hair, pressing her breasts into his warm palms.

        Her arms tightened about him as he laid her back against the bed and came to settle at her side, his turgid cock pressing into her hip as he kissed and nipped and suckled a fiery path of ardor over her throat and collarbones.  She was enflamed even before his lips settled on her breasts, his mouth hot as he drew one taut peak between his lips. 

        He hissed as her fingers wound tightly in his hair as she held him to her, waves of pleasure rippling over him to settle at the base of his spine. His hand ghosted over her belly and came to rest between her thighs.  He could feel her wetness and wished he could have a taste of her, but he knew she would not appreciate it at the moment.  She was eager and impatient.  He could tell with every touch, every moan from her sweet lips.

        Belle lifted her hips, grinding into his hand.  “Please!  Please, Rum, touch me,” she begged, her eyes dark and wild as she met his gaze.

        Rumpelstiltskin stroked her gently, parting her folds and dipping inside.  She thrashed beneath him, craving the friction he provided.  She clenched around his finger as he slipped it deeply past the tight ring of muscle at her entrance, and keened long and low as his thumb circled her clit.  His mouth worried her nipple as he thrust into her over and over, her inner walls clasping and quivering as he urged her closer to her peak.  He realized the need for the suite they’d been given as she threw back her head in abandon and screamed her release.  He smiled in satisfaction, thinking the occupants of the ballroom below could probably hear her.

        He didn’t give her a chance to let her fears resurface, moving to kneel between her parted legs and kissing a path along her inner thigh.  He paused in his trek up her body, his tongue darting out to circle around her clit, stoking the fire that didn’t want to be extinguished.  More teasing brushes of his lips over her belly and breasts, her neck and the smooth curve of her jaw until he could claim her lips once more.

        Belle whimpered against the corner of his mouth as she felt the low hum of desire begin to build again in her belly.  “Rum …” she moaned, fighting off the urge to stiffen as she felt his cock press against her opening.

        His fingers curled in the hair at her nape as he kissed her again, trying to soothe her as he entered her slowly.  “Shh, my Belle.  Just relax and let me in,” he crooned, locking his gaze with hers.

        Her nails digging into the corded muscles of his shoulder was the only sign of her lingering doubts, but she forced herself to relax, to trust him.  “I love you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

        His hips snapped forward involuntarily at her declaration, her maidenhead giving way with his first thrust and allowing him to slide into her without further resistance.  His heart broke to see the wince upon her lovely features.  He peppered her face and neck with the gentlest of kisses as he held himself perfectly still to allow her time to adjust.  “I’m so sorry, my love.  I didn’t –“

        “I’m ok, Rumpel,” she assured him, gently kneading the nape of his neck.

        He searched her face.  He wouldn’t put it past her to put his needs above her own.  “Do you want me to stop?”  It would no doubt kill him, but he’d do it for his precious wife.  He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her.

        Belle arched a brow and shifted beneath him, wrapping her legs around his waist and drawing him deeper within her heated core.  “No.  I just needed a moment.”  He groaned as she tightened her inner muscles reflexively and dug her heels into the backs of his thighs.

        She moaned as he thrust tentatively, still afraid to cause her pain.  Her fingers trailed over the small of his back, clasping him to her as she lifted her hips to meet him.  He pressed his brow to hers, bracing himself on his forearms as he gained confidence, listening to her every sound, and paying rapt attention to the way she moved.  Finally, together, they were able to find a rhythm which suited them and Belle was able to feel herself climbing closer towards her peak.

        His wife, his little goddess, his savior chanted through his fevered mind as he thrust into her over and over.  He’d never known such pleasure, such unadulterated bliss as being enveloped in her welcoming heat.  He gasped as she writhed beneath him, her nails leaving deep scratches along his back as she convulsed around him and cried out his name, tipping over the edge into the abyss.  His hips jerked erratically as her inner walls pulled at him and he buried his face against her throat as he gave up on his control and followed her into paradise, losing himself completely in her arms, in her love.

        Belle held onto him, refusing to let go when he made to move to her side.  She didn’t want to lose the feeling of him buried so deeply within her, nor give up his panting breath on her neck or the sweetly whispered words of love against the shell of her ear.  She sighed as he softened enough to slip out of her and rolled to his side.  His hand smoothed over her hip and he pressed a kiss to her brow before he slid out of their bed and disappeared behind the dressing screen.

        She didn’t have long to wonder over his actions before he was back at her side with a warm wet cloth.  “Are you alright, my love?” he asked worriedly as he cleaned the blood and their mingled fluids from her thighs.

        She nodded sleepily and smiled, her heart warming over his tender care.  “A bit sore.  Nothing a bath wouldn’t cure, I’m sure.”

        Rumpelstiltskin tossed the cloth atop their discarded clothes on the floor and settled at her side, pulling the duvet over them and wrapping her up in his arms to bring her against his chest.  “Rest a bit and I will ring for one if it is your wish.”

        Belle pressed a lingering kiss to his throat, reveling in the shiver she felt flow through him.  “Did I please you, my husband?”

        “You always please me, Belle.  Just a smile from your sweet lips is enough to bring me untold joy.”

        She squeezed him just a little tighter at his lovely words.  “Good.  Because I have a feeling I’ll be grinning like a loon for days to come.”

       

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: OMG! I’m so so so sorry it took me so long to finish this chapter. Please forgive me! I hope the chapter lived up to your expectations :D One more chapter and we’re done, dearies!!! Can I just tell you how excited I am about that?! I really look forward to hearing what you think about the update! Thank you all so much for sticking with me!
> 
> I want to also thank everyone who nominated me for TEAs this year! Y’all are amazing! Please don’t forget to vote on the 31st!!


	23. Epilogue

 

 

**One year later** **…**

 

        “There you are, my love!  If you don’t hurry, we’re going to be late,” the Countess of Dunsmore said as she hurried into her husband’s shop.  She rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek as his arm slipped about her waist to support her.

        “Dearest, I sent word to the castle that I’d be back before ten,” Rumpelstiltskin said gently before he became distracted.  “Gretchen, no, dearie, that blue wool goes to Lady Danbridge in Lykaster.  Don’t mix it in with the order going to Tannen.”  He sent the girl off to correct her mistakes, and smiled apologetically at his wife.

        She arched a brow at him, clearly amused with him.  “Yes, I know.  Which is why when the hour approached eleven and still you hadn’t returned … well, I thought we’d come to see what was keeping you.”

        The earl groaned.  “I’m sorry, Belle.  I suppose I let the time get away from me.  At least we don’t have to be in Avonlea for the christening until three.”  He brushed his lips to her brow.  “Give me just a moment to speak with young master Patrick and we’ll be on our way.”

        Belle watched him hurry off to the back of the shop to give instruction to his first apprentice, maneuvering lithely around several bolts of cloth and a large display of yarn.  Atop his duties as liege lord to their small village, he took pride in operating his small spinning and weaving shop.  It had come to the point where he’d had to turn away potential apprentices, as anyone with a measure of talent wanted to learn from him.  Dressmakers and tailors from miles around – some even from so far away as Longborne – all wanted his fine wares for their shops.  Special orders were filled for those – mostly noblewomen – who could afford his embroidery thread and yarn.  And he poured the profits into the village, keeping only what was needed to pay his workers.

        Her husband was in possession of a kind and generous soul.  He wanted the village – for which he was responsible – to be prosperous and well cared for.  It was growing at an alarming rate, and she wondered if they would have to begin turning people away as new families flocked to Dunsmore to settle down.  Jefferson was never far from his side, guiding him in the business of caring for the crofters, maintaining their rented homes and seeing to the collection of taxes.  Yet Rumpelstiltskin always had a new enterprising idea he wanted to implement.  There was no unemployment, no homelessness in Dunsmore.

        During the first months of their marriage, Belle was sure he would work himself into the ground, but he’d seemed to only grow stronger.  The power of his title was never abused, but used to help their people.  _“People in our village will not know what it’s like to go to bed hungry, nor cold, Belle.  They won’t know the poverty I suffered while worrying if I’d be able to provide for my child day to day.  If they’re willing to work, then we’ll provide work for them,” he told her, so passionate, so driven, and her heart had swelled with pride in him._

_“And what if we run out of space to house them all?” she’d queried innocently._

_“Then we’ll build more.  Hence providing carpentry work for those who are experienced and in need of a job.”_

        Their lives had settled into a comfortable routine.  She spent mornings with Bae, expanding on the lessons provided by his tutor, and then she and Baelfire would join Rumpelstiltskin in the shop in the afternoons.  When Bae would become restless, Thorrin would watch over him while he played with the many friends he’d made, and then together her little family would return home for dinner.  Certain days of the month were set aside for special tasks, but Belle didn’t care as long as those tasks were carried out together.  She didn’t like to be parted from him for overlong, feeling as if a part of her were missing when they were separated.

        Belle didn’t understand how she could seem to grow to love him more each day, but she didn’t question it.  A game of chance in a tavern in an obscure little village in the Frontlands had brought her an untold gift.  Who was she to question the will of the gods who saw fit to bless her?  She snapped out of her reverie as his arms curled about her waist, his long spinner’s fingers drawing nonsensical patterns over the swell of her belly where their child rested.

        “Are you sure you’re up to the ride, dearest?” he asked, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of her neck.

        “Two hours to Avonlea won’t overtax me, I’m sure,” she assured him.  “We still have four months to go, Rum.  I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

        “Cheeky wench,” he admonished, nipping her gently with his teeth.  “I love you, Belle.  I worry for you.  I would … I don’t want to think of my life should something happen to you.”

        She turned in his arms and cradled his smooth cheeks in her warm palms, locking her earnest gaze with his.  “Then don’t.  Enjoy today and be happy.”

        He nodded and pressed his brow to hers for a long moment, relishing the feel of her in his embrace.  He _was_ happy … extremely so.  “Come.  Let’s not keep Bae waiting.”

 

***XOXOX***

 

        Rumpelstiltskin paced a wide circle around the sitting area in the Great Hall, his nephew cradled in his arms.  He cooed softly to little Liam as he tried to soothe him.  The pomp and ceremony of his christening accompanied by the influx of guests in the palace for the feast to follow being too much for him.  The wee babe – all of three months old – stared up at him with his cobalt blue orbs, his hand curled around the spinner’s finger.  “There now, sweetling, all is well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the babe’s tiny hand.

        “Rum, you’re going to spoil him if you’re not careful,” Lyssa chuckled from her spot upon the settee next to Belle where she sipped her tea.

        Lucern lounged back in his chair and grinned at his wife.  “It’s good practice for when his own little one arrives, eh, Rum?”

        “He’s had plenty of practice with Bae, Luc,” Belle joined in, her eyes seeking out her son across the room at the refreshment table where he stood with Abel and Grace.  “And a fine job he did, too.”

        Rumpelstiltskin placed his now sleeping bundle in the bassinet next to his mother and moved to his wife’s side.  He was grateful to be off of his ankle for a while.  Though he no longer needed the aid of his cane, the weather or too much activity still sent a twinge of pain to the joint.  He gladly accepted the tea Belle had prepared for him, his eyes scanning the myriad of guests who’d come to have a look at Avonlea’s newest prince.

        “Lyssa, love … I don’t mean to alarm you, or cast a pall on this rather auspicious day – “

        The princess blinked at her husband, bemused by his hedging.  “But?  Spit it out, husband before we all expire from old age.”

        His eyes twinkled with mischief.  “Grimmold’s ship was spotted in the harbor this morning.”

        “Bloody hellfire!”

        “Who is Grimmold?” the spinner asked, confused by Lyssa’s heated reaction to the name.

        Belle hid her smile behind the rim of her cup as her sister in law fumed silently.  “Lord Grimmold is a former suitor, darling,” she offered by way of explanation.  “Edmund – Lyssa’s older brother – tried to make a match between them.”

        “A match?!” the princess seethed.  “The idiot would have sold me to the blackguard if my father hadn’t put a stop to it.  I can’t understand why your papa would even allow him into port.”

        “You know why, sweetheart,” Lucern said, reaching out to cover her hand with his.  “He has a network of spies who feed him valuable information.  On more than one occasion, he’s brought us news which has foiled enemies against the crown.  King George, for example, would have gouged papa on their trade agreement if it weren’t for valuable information Grimmold provided.”

        “Well, I am not obliged to like the man,” his wife insisted.  “Any man who makes his fortune dealing in nefarious activities such as he – “

        Rumpelstiltskin set his cup on the low table and leaned forward, his forearms braced against his knees.  “Nefarious?”

        “Spies, piracy, slave trade,” Lucern replied.  “Nefarious indeed.”

        The spinner cast a cautious glance at his wife, and then searched out her knights with his troubled gaze.  He would have to have a word with Gaston to tighten the security around his family.  Lucern might not feel inclined to be wary, but Rumpelstiltskin wouldn’t be taking any chances.

        “Well, let’s just hope he won’t be in port for very long,” Belle agreed with her brother’s wife.  “He’s odious in the extreme and lord only knows who his pet of the month is.”

       

***XOXOX***

 

        Icy cold grey eyes narrowed on the back of her master’s head, bringing new meaning to the phrase ‘if looks could kill’.  She glanced down at herself in disgust, her lip curling as she took in the finery, the jewels sewn into the little vest and the wide waistband of the gauzy skirt she wore.  The clothes she could stand … barely, but the bands about her ankles and wrists, the collar and long golden chain about her neck – the mark of her slavery – which she could not abide.  Her _slavery_ , she thought bitterly, wondering for the thousandth time how she’d ever been brought so low.  And not just any slave.  Oh no!  That would have been bad enough, but no, she was her master’s prized concubine.  Just the word, her title no less, made the bile churn in her gut.

        Milah stumbled forward as Lord Grimmold – the lousy bastard – caught her woolgathering and gave a sharp yank on her leash.  “Chin up, pet.  Can’t have you falling off the dock and ruining your clothes before we make the palace.  How would that look?” he sneered over his shoulder at her.

        “It would look poorly on you, master,” she clipped out through clenched teeth in a deceptively docile tone.  She knew when to pick her battles by now, having been with him for over a year now.  She matched her steps with his, keeping her pace measured as she followed behind him along the sun kissed planks of the dock.  Her gaze, though meekly lowered, raced over her surroundings, always looking for her one chance at escape.

        “You would think you’d have learned by now,” he sighed, dragging her behind him into one of the hired hacks which would transport them to the palace.  A heavy hand to her shoulder pushed her down to her knees between the two seats, and she shuddered.  He never let an opportunity pass to put her in her place.  “I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult for yourself, pet.”

        “Because I don’t want to be owned by you!” she spat, her eyes flashing fury.  She braced herself as he drew back his hand to strike her, her entire body tensing.  She held her ground, raising her chin defiantly.  She’d be damned if she let him break her.

        “I’ll have to deal with you later,” he hissed, lowering his hand.  “Don’t want that lovely face marred with bruises when you’ll be in plain view of others.  Maurice might take exception to it.”  He took her chin in his harsh grip and brought her face close to his.  “But don’t think I’ll let you off easily.”  He trailed the fingers of his other hand over the polished gold of her collar and then lower over her breasts.  “There’s always tonight.”

        Milah glared at him.  Perhaps if he were handsome or kind, she wouldn’t mind belonging to him, she thought.  He provided well for her, after all.  His cherished pet.  If he wasn’t so fleshy or hairy or cruel or … argh!  It was all that bloody princess’s fault!  She should never have agreed to that game.  Her luck had turned all right, but not for the better. She’d thought to take her winnings and begin a new life, one free to do whatever she wanted, to find love and happiness.  Instead, she’d run afoul of one horrid happenstance after another.  Only one thought consoled her through it all.  Her poor pitiful former husband was nothing more than a slave.  A smirk toyed at the corner of her mouth as she thought of Rumpelstiltskin.  At least she wasn’t alone in her fate.

 

***XOXOX***

 

        “Now as I have already explained, pet … are you listening to me, girl?” Grimmold snapped in impatience. 

        “Yes, master.”  Milah quickly righted herself as he yanked her out of the hack.  She clenched her toes against the soft leather soles of her sandals to keep them in place before she lifted her gaze to his.

        “It is imperative to stay in the king’s good graces.” He tightened her chain around his fist and pulled her forward to whisper conspiratorially to her.  “It’s always good to have a few royals in one’s pocket, per se.  You are not to speak to _anyone_ , do you hear?”

        She kept her gaze focused on where she was going and nodded.

        “That doesn’t include me, by the way.”

        “I was simply following instruction … master,” she bit out.  Gods, how she hated to put voice to that vile moniker.  “Where are we … er, I mean … which kingdom are we visiting?” she asked, more than a little impressed with the sheer opulence of the palace as she followed him through the grand entry doors.

        “We are in Avonlea in the Marchlands.  The sovereign is King Maurice who will be succeeded by his son Lucern, the crown prince.”  A look of distaste flickered across his ruddy features beneath his bright red beard.  “The prince is married to Lady Lyssa.  Ah what a fiery little piece.  Nearly managed to gain her hand for myself.”

        “Lucky girl to have escaped your attentions,” Milah muttered under her breath.

        “What was that?” he asked, having clearly heard her.  He wondered if she would dare to repeat it.

        “You were saying?”

        “Yes … “ he said, giving her a piercing look.  “The prince and his princess are celebrating the christening of their firstborn son.  That, pet, is why we’re here.  It would behoove me to offer my congratulations … and a gift.  His full lips smacked rather loudly in anticipation.  “You will enjoy the feast I’m sure.  After your last punishment, I would think you’d savor a good meal.”

        “I’d rather starve than sit at your feet and eat from your hand,” she hissed quietly.  Her cheek earned her a sharp tug at her leash, causing her to crash unceremoniously into his broad back.

        “Don’t tempt me, pet.  That can be arranged.”

        She didn’t comment further as he led her towards the Great Hall.  Apparently, he’d been there before, seeming to know his way around.  Her eyes drank in the rich appointments, the smell of fresh baked bread and roasted meat – causing her stomach to growl loudly – filling the air, everything a delight to her senses.  It was the kind of place she’d always envisioned herself … though on the arm of a high-ranking nobleman rather than her odious master.

        Milah took a deep breath, inwardly cursing the heavily laden tables and their mouth-watering contents.  Gods, she was starving!  Thankfully, the receiving line to have a look at the wee babe wasn’t too long, and she’d be able to eat soon.  Even if it was at her master’s feet.  He was right; her stubbornness could only last so long.

        She craned her neck – something her master frowned upon as well she knew – to estimate their time in line, and saw … _HER!_   No!  It wasn’t possible.  Not here!  But it was her, that thieving, cheating princess who’d conned her into giving up her husband and child.  She recovered herself quickly as rage settled in her breast and caused an angry flush to mottle her features.  She couldn’t allow Belle to see her, to see how far she’d fallen due to the hand she’d been dealt.

        Swallowing back the bile burning her throat, Milah gently laid her hand on her master’s arm.  “Master?  Must we waste time here to see the child?” she asked, her body language soft and biddable.  His eyes narrowed suspiciously on her.  “Perhaps we can return to the ship and spend a pleasant evening together.”

        His lips pursed into a moue of displeasure, his arm tensing beneath her fingertips.  “No, I don’t think so, pet.  I’d rather like to have a look at sweet Lyssa’s offspring.”  He pulled her forward with him as the line inched forward.  “Now what is it you want in order to offer yourself so willingly?  Or is it something … or _someone_ , you’d rather avoid?”

        “I simply wish to leave,” she whispered urgently.

        Grimmold laughed raucously as he saw through her ploy.  “Then, by all means, we must stay.  I am thoroughly intrigued.”

         It took a great effort to stop herself from stamping her foot.  Instead, she ducked behind her master and focused on making herself small.  She could just imagine the ridicule in store for her should the princess set eyes on her.  Yet she couldn’t help but watch the woman where she sat with her family.

        “Mama!  Mama!” Baelfire gushed happily as he weaved in and out through the guest to make his way to the sitting area.  His face was flushed and the smile on his lips brought out the deep dimples in his cheeks.  He stopped before Belle and presented her with a rose.  “Look, mama, grandpa’s hybrids are in bloom.”

        Belle beamed at the boy as she took the ivory and mauve rose from him, bringing it to her nose to inhale its heavenly scent.  “It’s beautiful, darling.  Are these the same ones you helped him plant?”

        He nodded enthusiastically, nestling into her side as he sat beside her on the settee.  “They are.  Will you and papa come out to the garden with us and see?”

        Milah’s jaw dropped as she watched her son call another woman ‘mama’.  What the hell was going on?  When she’d sold Bae to the princess, she’d expected him to be a servant – much like Rumpelstiltskin was destined to be –  yet he was calling her ‘mama’.  She took in the changes wrought in his features over the past year and tears burned at the backs of her eyes.

        Grimmold raised a brow as he looked down at her.  She had never deigned him important enough to share her past, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was about to catch up with her.  He wouldn’t miss this for the world, even if making her stay there and face it would make her unbearable for the next week or so.  “Is something wrong, Milah?” he asked quietly.

        She jerked her gaze to his, more than a little surprised at his use of her given name.  So surprised, in fact, she lowered her guard enough to answer honestly.  “That’s my son,” she whispered brokenly.

        “ _Your_ son?!  Then … _you’re_ Dunsmore’s ex-wife?” he asked incredulously.

        Milah frowned.  “Dunsmore?  I’m not following.  I was married to a cowardly spinner whose greatest achievement was running instead of fighting in the ogre wars,” she spat bitterly.

        “The princess’s husband, her former servant who was granted an earldom when he saved the life of her brother … the prince.”

        She shook her head, her body stiff with shock.  “No!” she hissed.  “No, it can’t be the same man.”  She refused to accept it, believe it.  Fate couldn’t be so bloody cruel.  However, she couldn’t dispute the unmistakable face and frame of her former husband as he strode forward and helped the princess up from her seat.  Her eyes widened further as he did so without the aid of his walking staff.  How the hell had that happened?  And then her eyes narrowed on the evident swell of Belle’s belly.  Oh this just got more and more unbelievable.

        Seeing the little family were about to leave the gathering, Grimmold tightened his hand around Milah’s leash and pulled her forward.  “Lady Belle,” he called, catching her attention with his jovial tone.

        Belle groaned inwardly as she turned, pasting a pleasant smile upon her face.  It mattered not that she wasn’t Avonlea’s high princess, she was still duty-bound to be courteous and diplomatic with her father’s subjects.  “Horace, how nice to see you,” she said, holding out her hand in greeting.  She tried not to shudder as his lips brushed her knuckles.

        “You’re as lovely as ever, m’dear.  And might I congratulate you on your marriage.  I was so sorry I wasn’t able to attend your wedding.”

        “Thank you,” she said, inclining her head to accept his well wishes.  “And who is your friend … “

        “Milah …” her husband gasped, his face draining of color as he stared at the woman half hidden behind the corsair.

        Belle’s attention shifted to the woman she’d hoped never to see again, only to feel her son’s hand slip into hers and pull her over to stand beside his father.  She looked down to find Baelfire’s eyes beseeching her.  “Make her go away, mama.”

        Maurice rose anxiously from his chair next to Lucern and stepped forward, hoping to diffuse the coming scene.  “Horace, have you tried that delectable torte Mrs. Potts just put on the buffet?  Why don’t we have a piece and discuss business while everyone becomes reacquainted?  Surely, your lady friend can spare a few moments to speak with my children,” he said, his tone casual enough to put them all at ease, but firm enough to let the man know he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.

        Grimmold nodded, pausing only a moment to drape her chain around her neck.  “Behave, pet.  I won’t be long.”

        “Hey, Bae, why don’t we go find your friends, yeah?” Lucern said, reaching out to take his nephew’s hand.  “And Thorrin, too.  We can walk out to the stables and visit with the new foals.”

        Baelfire looked up at his mother, his grip growing painful on her hand.  “Mama, I don’t want to leave you.”  His eyes swung to Milah and she frowned at the fear she saw in his eyes.

        Belle pressed a kiss to his brow and cradled his little face in her hands, silently cursing the woman for showing up now when Bae was finally better able to deal with her abandonment.  “It’s alright, my darling boy.  I know how much you’ve wanted to see the new foals, and when you return we’ll go out to the garden and see your roses.  I promise it will be fine.”

        “Can’t you come with me?” he asked, terrified his birth mother would try to take him from Belle.

        Belle pressed her lips close to his ear.  “Papa needs me right now.  Your uncle will not allow anyone … _anyone_ , to take you from us.  Let me help papa and then I will come for you.”

        Bae puffed out his little chest and gave her a solemn nod.  “Ok, mama.”

        Belle’s eyes flashed fire as she watched her son leave with Luc.  “Come with us,” she said, slipping her hand in the crook of her husband’s elbow.  “Unless you’d rather have this conversation here in the hall for all to witness.  I’m sure it would greatly entertain the court.”

        Milah was left with no choice but to follow when Gaston and Merrick flanked her, leading her to the salon behind Rumpelstiltskin and Belle.

        Belle was so angry, she trembled.  She squeezed her husband’s arm.  He hadn’t said anything aside from the horrified whisper of her name.  “Are you alright, Rum?”

        He shook his head, looking back to make sure he hadn’t been hallucinating.  “What is she even doing here?” he hissed angrily. Color suffusing his cheeks now that he was assured he wasn’t losing his wits.

        “We’re about to find out,” she said, patting his arm with her free hand.  “Should I ring for tea?”

        Rumpelstiltskin gaped at her, suppressing a chuckle. He appreciated it that she was trying to lighten his mood if only for a brief moment.  “I’m thinking something stronger would be more fitting, dearest.”

        Belle pulled Gaston to the side when they reached the salon.  “Gaz, please ring for some mead for Rumpel.  I’m afraid he’s going to need it.”

        “We haven’t had dinner yet, Belle.  Are you sure?  The spinner’s a bit of a lightweight when it comes to drink,” he returned.

        “Knowing him, he’ll sit there and hold it just to have something to do with his hands.  Please, Gaz.”

        He nodded and he and Merrick withdrew from the room, leaving the earl and countess alone with Grimmold’s plaything.  Rumpelstiltskin sat on the sofa, silently glaring at his ex-wife as Belle moved to sit beside him.  The tension in the room was palpable as neither of Bae’s parents wanted to be the one to break the silence which had fallen between them.

         Belle sighed and leveled the woman with a piercing stare.  “What are you doing here, Milah?  You are in direct violation of the contract –“

        “In case you haven’t noticed, I didn’t have much of a choice,” she snarled, pointing a finger at the collar about her neck.

        Rumpelstiltskin waved an impatient hand.  “How the hell did this happen to you?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.  “With the amount of gold you gained from Belle, you should have had enough to make yourself quite comfortable.  Why would you sell yourself?”

        Milah’s lip curled in disgust.  “You would think I’d sink so low as to sell myself, Rumpel,” she said with a roll of her eyes.  “I was more than set to enjoy my winnings … things just didn’t go according to plan.”

        “Do tell, dearie,” Belle snorted, rather enjoying herself enough to use one of husband’s favorite affectations.

        The woman’s eyes narrowed.  “It was like I was cursed.  I never should have agreed to that game with you,” she spat.  “My life has been nothing but a living hell since the day I met you.  I was set upon by thieves not even a day out of that pathetic village.  I was thrown onto a ship and bound for the slave market.  I’ve been with Grimmold for over a year and you couldn’t even contemplate what tortures I have suffered at his hands!  And all the while, my _husband_ – “

        “ _Ex_ – husband!” the spinner corrected.

        “ – enjoys every comfort!” she cried bitterly.

        Gaston returned to the room and pressed a tankard of mead into his friend’s hands, his eyebrows raised in askance.  “Is there a problem, m’lady?” he asked, turning his cold gaze on Milah.

        “Everything’s fine, Gaz, thank you,” Rumpelstiltskin said, draining half the contents in his cup.   “Actually, everything is bloody well perfect.  Poetic even.”  A slow smirk quirked his lips as he rose from the settee.

        Gaston retreated to lean against the cold hearth, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the little drama with amusement.  It wasn’t often he was treated to a glimpse of the spinner’s snarky side.

        “Rum?” Belle asked, almost able to feel the tension radiating from him.

        “No, Belle, think about it.  Karma is a fickle bitch, isn’t she?  For years after I returned from the war … no matter what I did to try to please her, it was never good enough. And she was more than a little vocal in her displeasure.  She was horrid to me and she neglected our son.  Yet I stayed with her because she was my wife.  I had a duty to protect her.”

        “You should have left!” Milah screeched.  “I couldn’t have made it any plainer I didn’t want you!”

        He set the tankard on the end table with a _thunk_ as he pointed one long finger in her direction.  “I’m bloody well glad you hated me, Milah.  Your hatred pushed you into wagering me in that game and I couldn’t be happier.  Baelfire couldn’t be happier, and it’s all because of your greedy hate-filled heart.”

        “Bastard!” she yelled, swinging her balled fist at him.

        Rumpelstiltskin caught her wrist, his grip causing her to flinch.  His smile was wide as he chuckled, the sound making her all the more furious.  “You served me up to Belle on a silver platter and she taught me what it was like to have someone love me.”  He tossed her hand away and moved back to his wife’s side, pulling her to her feet and slipping his arm about her waist.  “Do you know what it’s like to have someone love you unconditionally, dearie?  Of course you don’t.  How could you when you aren’t capable of such a pure emotion.”

        Belle rested her hand over his heart, feeling the thundering beat beneath her palm.  For a moment she was worried for his health, never having seen him so angry before.

        “I have my _wife_ , my son and another child on the way.  I have love, Milah, and it was worth the misery I suffered at your hands.”

        His good fortune made her hate him all the more, but she held onto her temper.  “I want to speak with my son.  Allow me to speak with him and I’ll ask Grimmold to take me away from here immediately.”

        “No,” Belle interjected adamantly.  “I’ll not allow you to frighten my son.”

        “He’s _my_ son!” the woman cried viciously.

        “No, he’s _my_ son.  He ceased to be yours the moment you signed his bill of sale.  He belongs to me and Rumpel and there’s nothing you can do about it.”  Belle’s chin lifted, every inch the princess she was born to be.  “Gaston, please escort this _woman_ back to Lord Grimmold.”

        “Do you wish for them to leave?” the knight asked, eyeing her cautiously.

        “That won’t be necessary.  I won’t deny papa the business he needs to conduct with Horace.  Just make sure she isn’t allowed near Bae.”

        Rumpelstiltskin breathed a sigh of relief as his former wife was led from the room, his arms tightening about Belle’s waist.  He buried his face against the crook of her neck, breathing in her floral scent and letting it calm him.  “I’m sorry I lost my temper, sweetheart.”

        Belle pressed a kiss to his temple and carded her fingers through the soft locks resting against his collar.  “Think nothing of it, Rum.”  Her lips ventured lower over his cheek and along the smooth curve of his jaw to his ear.  His body relaxed into her embrace and he shivered beneath her touch.  “We knew it would happen eventually.”

        “Hm?” he breathed, his lips mapping a path along the slender column of her throat.

        “We knew fate wouldn’t be kind to one such as her.  It was only a matter of time before we were confronted with what karma dealt her.  I, for one, think it’s nothing less than she deserves.”

        The spinner sighed and drew back to meet her gaze.  “Then why do I feel just the slightest bit guilty?”

        Belle snorted.  “You have nothing for which to feel guilty.  You didn’t make her choices for her, Rum.  If you feel guilty, it’s because you are a good man with one of the kindest hearts I’ve ever seen.  She’s made her bed, let her lie in it.”

        His lips closed over hers, allowing himself to get lost in the beauty of her kiss.  “We should go fetch Bae from the stables and assure him all is well.”

        “Yes, I agree,” she said, slipping her hand into his as he led her from the room.  “And then I have something I’d like to teach the both of you.  Lucern might even wish to join in.”

        “Yeah, and what’s that, dearest?”

        “Have you ever played poker?”

 

 

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ok, now I’m going to go curl up and cry because it’s over. This has been such a great ride. Handwithquill gave me this beautiful prompt and I deluded myself into thinking I could make it into a o/s. 23 chapters later … yeah, I really enjoyed bringing this story to life. I want to thank all of you, my darling readers, for supporting me throughout the writing process. Your lovely comments and kudos fed my muse and made me unbelievably happy. I love you all so much. I’m going on hiatus for a while. I’ll be writing, just not posting for a bit. When I come back, I promise to have something new for you all to read and enjoy. 
> 
>  
> 
> My heartfelt thanks –
> 
> Charlotte :D

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Alright, dearies! What did you think of the first chapter? I’m dying to hear your thoughts, so please comment or review, yeah? Thank so much, Quill, for this delicious prompt.


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